The Rhyme Maker
4th stanza: Solomon,
the archetype of human greatness, is the King whose
has left nothing behind. He harnessed the wind as a
steed to his chariot, he spoke with the birds in their own
and the wise and magnificent Assaf
was his minister.
- Gertrude Bell, translator
Notes: Persian Wine Poetry
Arise! and fill a golden goblet up
Arise, oh Cupbearer, rise!
Forget not when dear friend
From out the street of So-and-So
From the garden of Heaven
Hast thou forgotten
not reproach at the drunkard's door
Spring, to linger in a garden fair
My friend has fled
all the sum of earthly happiness
Not one is filled with madness
Cup-bearer, set my glass afire
sweet Singer, fresh notes strew
The bird of gardens sang unto the rose
The breath of Dawn
The rose has flushed red
secret draft of wine
What drunkenness is this
What is wrought in the forge
is my ruined life
Wind from the east
Richard Le Gallienne
the morning breaks
returns of this good day
do you think this is a time
night, as half asleep I dreaming lay
hermitage the tavern is
Saki – take the wine away
I've good news for you – the spring
more red wine
for God's love, come and fill
Abbot of the Wine-House
an unstable world
Gallons of old wine
ails thee, Saki! Wine
thus I sit with roses in my breast
last night’s wine still singing
English translations of Hafiz:
of Hafiz (unknown - 1875)
Feast Of Spring (Whinfield - 1917)
rose has flushed red, the bud has burst
(c. 1320-1389), Persian poet
by Gertrude Bell (1868-1926), British writer
rose has flushed red, the bud has burst,
drunk with joy is the nightingale
Sufis lovers of wine, all hail!
wine is proclaimed to a world athirst.
a rock your repentance seemed to you;
the marvel! of what avail
your rock, for a goblet has cleft it in two!
wine for the king and the slave at the gate!
for all is the banquet spread,
drunk and sober are warmed and fed.
the feast is done and the night grows late,
the second door of the tavern gapes wide,
low and the mighty must bow the head
the archway of Life, to meet what . . . outside?
thy road through affliction pass,
may reach the halting-station of mirth;
treaty: Am I not Lord of the earth?
sealed with a sigh : Ah yes, alas!
with Is nor Is Not let thy mind contend;
assured all perfection of mortal birth
the great Is Not at the last shall end.
Assaf's pomp, and the steeds of the wind,
the speech of birds, down the wind have fled,
he that was lord of them all is dead;
his mastery nothing remains behind.
not thy feathered arrow astray!
bow-shot's length through the air it has sped,
then . . . dropped down in the dusty way.
to thee, oh Hafiz, to thee, oh Tongue
speaks through the mouth of the slender reed,
thanks to thee when thy verses speed
lip to lip, and the song thou hast sung?
from Poems From The Divan of Hafiz (1897)
From The Divan of Hafiz (1897)
by Gertrude Bell (1868-1926)
Free E-Book from The Internet Archive
Free Audio Book From LibriVox