The Rhyme Maker
poem has been expounded to me as a description of the poet's quest
for love. In an allegory he shows how he looked for it in vain from
that image of earthly devotion, the nightingale (“the
bird of garden”); he warns men that it comes not but by
humiliation and sorrow; he questions the magic garden, but its
breezes cannot answer him ; finally, he concludes that love is not
that which lies upon the lips of men, and calls upon the Cup-bearer
silence their idle talk with the wine of divine knowledge.
Gertrude Bell, translator
3: “Irem's magic garden” refers to a garden built by a Persian
king, an oasis in the desert said to rival the Garden of Eden.
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
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
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)
the garden of Heaven
(c. 1320-1389), Pesian poet
by Gertrude Bell (1868-1926), British writer
the garden of Heaven a western breeze
through the leaves of my garden of earth;
a love like a huri I' Id take mine ease,
wine! bring me wine, the giver of mirth!
the beggar may boast him a king,
banqueting-hall is the ripening field,
his tent the shadow that soft clouds fling.
tale of April the meadows unfold
foolish for future credit to slave,
to leave the cash of the present untold!
a fort with wine where thy heart may brave
assault of the world ; when thy fortress falls,
relentless victor shall knead from thy dust
bricks that repair its crumbling walls.
not the word of that foe in the fight!
the lamp of the synagogue lend its flame
set thy monastic torches alight?
am I, yet place not my name
the Book of Doom, nor pass judgment on it;
knows what the secret finger of Fate
his own white forehead has writ!
when the spirit of Hafiz has fled,
his bier with a tribute of sighs ;
the ocean of sin has closed o'er his head,
may find a place in God's Paradise.
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