Ghazal 95

From the Divan of Hafez · 7 couplets

The Oracle Speaks

...

Constantly the scent of your curling tresses keeps me drunk —

every moment the enchantment of your sorcerous eyes lays me waste.

After so much patience, O Lord, might one night be possible

when we light the candle of our eyes in the prayer-niche of your brow?

I hold dear the dark tablet of my vision

because it may serve as a copy for the soul, of the tablet of your Hindu mole.

If you wish to adorn the whole world forever at once,

tell the breeze to lift the veil from your face for a moment.

And if you wish to abolish the custom of mortality from the world,

shake out your hair and let a thousand souls fall from each strand.

I and the morning breeze — two wretched, aimless wanderers —

I drunk from the spell of your eyes, and it from the scent of your tresses.

What high aspiration Hafez has — from this world and the next

nothing comes into his sight except the dust at the head of your lane.

مدامم مست می‌دارد نسیمِ جَعدِ گیسویت

خرابم می‌کند هر دَم، فریبِ چشمِ جادویت

پس از چندین شکیبایی شبی یا رب توان دیدن

که شمعِ دیده افروزیم در محرابِ ابرویت

سوادِ لوح بینش را عزیز از بهر آن دارم

که جان را نسخه‌ای باشد ز لوحِ خالِ هندویت

تو گر خواهی که جاویدان جهان یکسر بیارایی

صبا را گو که بردارد زمانی بُرقِع از رویت

و گر رسمِ فنا خواهی که از عالم براندازی

برافشان تا فروریزد هزاران جان ز هر مویت

من و بادِ صبا مِسکین دو سرگردانِ بی‌حاصل

من از افسونِ چشمت مست و او از بویِ گیسویت

زهی همت که حافظ راست از دنیی و از عقبی

نیاید هیچ در چشمش به جز خاکِ سرِ کویت

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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