Ghazal 342

From the Divan of Hafez · 7 couplets

The Oracle Speaks

...

The dust of my body becomes the veil of the soul's face —

happy the moment when I cast that veil from that face.

Such a cage is not fitting for one of such sweet song as I —

I will go to the garden of paradise, for I am the bird of that meadow.

It was not made clear why I came, where I went —

alas and pain, that I am heedless of my own affair.

How shall I circle in the expanse of the holy world? —

for in the chamber of composition, I am bound to the board of the body.

If from the blood of my heart the scent of longing comes,

do not wonder — for I am the companion of the musk-pod of Khutan.

Do not look at the gold-embroidered trim of my shirt, like a candle —

for there are hidden burnings within my shirt.

Come and take the existence of Hafez away from before him —

for with your presence, no one hears from me that I am I.

حجابِ چهرهٔ جان می‌شود غبارِ تنم

خوشا دَمی که از آن چهره پرده برفکنم

چُنین قفس نه سزایِ چو من خوش‌اَلحانی‌ست

رَوَم به گلشنِ رضوان، که مرغِ آن چمنم

عیان نشد که چرا آمدم، کجا رفتم

دریغ و درد که غافل ز کارِ خویشتنم

چگونه طوف کنم در فضایِ عالمِ قدس؟

که در سراچهٔ ترکیب، تخته‌‌بندِ تنم

اگر ز خونِ دلم بویِ شوق می‌آید

عجب مدار که هم‌دردِ نافهٔ خُتنم

طرازِ پیرهنِ زَرکشم مبین چون شمع

که سوزهاست نهانی درونِ پیرهنم

بیا و هستیِ حافظ ز پیشِ او بردار

که با وجودِ تو کس نشنود ز من که منم

Source: Ganjoor.net

Reflect on This Poem

If this ghazal appeared as your reading today, consider:

  • Which line stirred something in you — comfort, longing, or unease?
  • What question were you holding when you arrived at this page?
  • What is this poem asking you to release or embrace?

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