We present this work in honor of Hafez Day.
From the garden of Heaven a western breeze
Blows through the leaves of my garden of earth;
With a love like a huri I’ld take mine ease,
And wine! bring me wine, the giver of mirth!
To-day the beggar may boast him a king,
His banqueting-hall is the ripening field,
And his tent the shadow that soft clouds fling.
A tale of April the meadows unfold—
Ah, foolish for future credit to slave,
And to leave the cash of the present untold!
Build a fort with wine where thy heart may brave
The assault of the world; when thy fortress falls,
The relentless victor shall knead from thy dust
The bricks that repair its crumbling walls.
Trust not the word of that foe in the fight!
Shall the lamp of the synagogue lend its flame
To set thy monastic torches alight?
Drunken am I, yet place not my name
In the Book of Doom, nor pass judgment on it;
Who knows what the secret finger of Fate
Upon his own white forehead has writ!
And when the spirit of Hafiz has fled,
Follow his bier with a tribute of sighs;
Though the ocean of sin has closed o’er his head,
He may find a place in God’s Paradise.
One thought on “From the Garden of Heaven”
thank you for sharing this poem. I knew one verse only, that had been translated into French (and kinda distorted) by Nicolas Bouvier while traveling across Iran in the 50’s. I’ve been looking for the proper English translation for sooo long!
Do you ever have any information that would help finding out the original Farsi poem?
What I know: This ghazal is numbered as the 77th in Khânlari edition, as the 79th in Qazvini-Ghani edition, and as the 50th in Khorramshâhi edition. Still I struggle getting it online.
Enjoy the day,