The Rhyme Maker
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
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
The rose is not fair
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)
friend has fled! alas, my friend has fled
(c. 1320-1389), Persian poet
by Gertrude Bell (1868-1926), British writer
friend has fled! alas, my friend has fled,
left me naught but tears and pain behind!
smoke above a flame caught by the wind.
rose she from my breast and forth she sped.
with desire, I seized Love's cup divine,
she that held it poured the bitter wine
Separation into it and fled.
hunter she, and I the helpless prey;
and sick, round me her toils she drew,
heart into a sea of sorrow threw,
up her camel loads and fled away.
had I laid an ambush for her soul,
saw and vanished, and the timid foal,
Fortune, slipped the rein and would not stay.
heart was all too narrow for my woe,
tears of blood my weeping eyes have shed,
crimson stream across the desert sped,
from out my sad heart's overflow.
knew not what Love's meanest slave can tell:
sweet to serve!" but threw me a Farewell,
my threshold, turned, and cried "I go!"
the clear dawn, before the east was red,
the rose had torn her veil in two,
nightingale through Hafiz' garden flew,
but to fill its song with tears, and fled.
from Poems From The Divan of Hafiz (1897)
From The Divan of Hafiz (1897)
by Gertrude Bell (1868-1926)
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