The lion's cub with other verse |
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| FOUR GAZELES OF HAFIZ. |
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 | The lion's cub |  |
FOUR GAZELES OF HAFIZ.
I.
O Wind! if thou should'st chance to pass the land,
The happy region, where my mistress is,
Bring me sweet scents from her ambrosial curls.
The happy region, where my mistress is,
Bring me sweet scents from her ambrosial curls.
By her dear life it would fill my soul with bliss
An thou would'st fetch me a message from her heart.
An thou would'st fetch me a message from her heart.
If Heaven refuse this boon—why, then bring dust
To my two eyes from my beloved's house.
To my two eyes from my beloved's house.
I pray that she may come—unhappy wretch!
When shall my weeping eyes behold her face?
When shall my weeping eyes behold her face?
I tremble like a reed, so strong my love
To see my fair one, stately as the pine.
To see my fair one, stately as the pine.
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Albeit she love me not, I would not give
One hair of her dear head for all the world.
One hair of her dear head for all the world.
Though free from trouble, what does Hafiz gain,
Whose heart is but the slave of his Beloved?
Whose heart is but the slave of his Beloved?
II.
That beauteous idol with the stony heart,
And ornaments of silver in her ears,
She robs me of my reason and my rest.
And ornaments of silver in her ears,
She robs me of my reason and my rest.
Could I enfold her like the robe she wears,
Soon as I touched this robe, her inmost robe,
And clothed her with myself, my heart would rest.
Soon as I touched this robe, her inmost robe,
And clothed her with myself, my heart would rest.
If all my bones were mouldered into dust,
My soul could not forget its love for her.
My soul could not forget its love for her.
Her neck and breast, her snow-white neck, her breast,
They plunder me of my heart, my faith, and heart.
They plunder me of my heart, my faith, and heart.
Hafiz, the only cure—the sovran cure,
Is in her full, sweet lips, her honeyed mouth.
Is in her full, sweet lips, her honeyed mouth.
III.
O balmy Wind! hast thou my mistress seen?
Thou must have stolen that musky scent from her;
Thou must have stolen that musky scent from her;
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Beware! thy fingers are too free by far,
For what hast thou to do with her bright curls?
For what hast thou to do with her bright curls?
O Rose! how can'st thou rival her red cheek?
Her cheek is smooth, but thine is rough with thorns.
Her cheek is smooth, but thine is rough with thorns.
And how dar'st thou, Sweet Basil! sport thy locks?
Her locks are glossy, thine are brown as dust.
Her locks are glossy, thine are brown as dust.
And thou, Narcissus! wherefore gaze at her?
Her eyes are bright, but thine are dim with sleep.
Her eyes are bright, but thine are dim with sleep.
O Cypress! when her stately form draws near,
Why wilt thou hope to be the garden's pride?
Why wilt thou hope to be the garden's pride?
What would'st thou choose, O Wisdom! if to choose
Were left thee still—in preference to Love?
Were left thee still—in preference to Love?
Be patient, Hafiz! if thy love endure—
If may be thine, some day, to meet thy love.
If may be thine, some day, to meet thy love.
IV.
If that fair maid of Shiraz would be mine,
I would Bokhara give, and Samarcand,
Just for the small, black mole upon her cheek:
Go straightway, boy, and bring what wine remains;
We shall not find the banks of Rocnabad,
Nor the bowers of Mosellay, in Paradise.
I would Bokhara give, and Samarcand,
Just for the small, black mole upon her cheek:
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We shall not find the banks of Rocnabad,
Nor the bowers of Mosellay, in Paradise.
Ah me, those wanton nymphs, those cunning girls,
For whose ripe charms Shiraz is up in arms—
They steal my peace of mind, my quiet heart.
They need not, dear ones, our imperfect love,
Fair faces need not perfume, paint, nor curls.
For whose ripe charms Shiraz is up in arms—
They steal my peace of mind, my quiet heart.
They need not, dear ones, our imperfect love,
Fair faces need not perfume, paint, nor curls.
Discourse with me of minstrels and of wine,
Nor seek the secrets of Futurity;
No man can solve that riddle. Let it rest.
Love rules us all, but Beauty still rules Love;
Nor wonder, then, that Yussef's loveliness
Plucked off Zuleika's veil of modesty.
Nor seek the secrets of Futurity;
No man can solve that riddle. Let it rest.
Love rules us all, but Beauty still rules Love;
Nor wonder, then, that Yussef's loveliness
Plucked off Zuleika's veil of modesty.
Hear sage advice, dear heart, for tender youths
Love old men's counsels better than their souls.
Thou speak'st ill of me, without offence;
May God forgive thee, thou hast spoken well;
But ah, do bitter words become thy mouth,
Those ruby lips, whence only sweetness falls?
Love old men's counsels better than their souls.
Thou speak'st ill of me, without offence;
May God forgive thee, thou hast spoken well;
But ah, do bitter words become thy mouth,
Those ruby lips, whence only sweetness falls?
Thou hast composed thy song, and strung thy pearls,
Now sing them sweetly, Hafiz, do thy best;
For heaven has sprinkled over all thy songs
The light and beauty of the Pleiades.
Now sing them sweetly, Hafiz, do thy best;
For heaven has sprinkled over all thy songs
The light and beauty of the Pleiades.
| The lion's cub | |