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Literature/Persian Heritage:
Divan of Hafiz
Ghazal
19
TRUE
love has vanished from every heart;
What
has befallen all lovers fair?
When
did the bonds of friendship part?--
What
has befallen the friends that were?
Ah,
why are the feet of Khizr lingering?--
The
waters of life are no longer clear,
The
purple rose has turned pale with fear,
And
what has befallen the wind of Spring?
None
now sayeth: "A love was mine,
Loyal
and wise, to dispel my care."
None
remembers love's right divine;
What
has befallen all lovers fair?
In the
midst of the field, to the players' feet,
The
ball of God's favour and mercy came,
But
none has leapt forth to renew the game--
What
has befallen the horsemen fleet?
Roses
have bloomed, yet no bird rejoiced,
No
vibrating throat has rung with the tale;
What
can have silenced the hundred-voiced?
What
has befallen the nightingale?
Heaven's music is hushed, and the planets roll
In
silence; has Zohra broken her lute?
There
is none to press out the vine's ripe fruit,
And
what has befallen the foaming bowl?
A city
where kings are but lovers crowned,
A land
from the dust of which friendship springs--
Who
has laid waste that enchanted ground?
What
has befallen the city of kings?
Years
have passed since a ruby was won
From
the mine of manhood; they labour in vain,
The
fleet-footed wind and the quickening rain,
And
what has befallen the light of the sun?
Hafiz,
the secret of God's dread task
No man
knoweth, in youth or prime
Or in
wisest age; of whom would'st thou ask:
What
has befallen the wheels of Time?
Ghazal
20
WHERE
are the tidings of union? that I may arise--
Forth
from the dust I will rise up to welcome thee!
My
soul, like a homing bird, yearning for Paradise,
Shall
arise and soar, from the snares of the world set free.
When
the voice of thy love shall call me to be thy slave,
I
shall rise to a greater far than the mastery
Of
life and the living, time and the mortal span:
Pour
down, oh Lord! from the clouds of thy guiding grace.
The
rain of a mercy that quickeneth on my grave,
Before, like dust that the wind bears from place to place,
I
arise and flee beyond the knowledge of man.
When
to my grave thou turnest thy blessed feet,
Wine
and the lute thou shalt bring in thine hand to me,
Thy
voice shall ring through the folds of my winding-sheet,
And I
will arise and dance to thy minstrelsy.
Though
I be old, clasp me one night to thy breast,
And I,
when the dawn shall come to awaken me,
With
the flush of youth on my check from thy bosom will rise.
Rise
up! let mine eyes delight in thy stately grace!
Thou
art the goal to which all men's endeavour has pressed,
And
thou the idol of Hafiz' worship; thy face
From
the world and life shall bid him come forth and arise!
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