The Rhyme Maker
Richard Le Gallienne, the translator of this poem of
Hafiz, also has his own poems posted at vintagewinepoems.com.
- S. H. Bass
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
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
English translations of Hafiz:
of Hafiz (unknown - 1875)
Feast Of Spring (Whinfield - 1917)
last night’s wine still singing
Hafiz (c.1320-1389), Persian poet
verse by Richard Le Gallienne (1866-1947), English poet
last night’s wine still singing in my head,
sought the tavern at the break of day,
half the world was still asleep in bed;
harp and flute were up and in full swing,
a most pleasant morning sound made they;
was the wine-cup on the wing.
said I, ‘’t is past the time to start,
you would reach your daily destination,
holy city of intoxication.’
did I pack him off, and he depart
a stout flask for fellow-traveler.
to myself, the tavern-wench I spied,
sought to win her love by speaking fair;
she turned upon me, scornful-eyed,
mocked my foolish hopes of winning her.
she, her arching eyebrows like a bow:
mark for all the shafts of evil tongues!
shalt not round my middle clasp me so,
my good girdle – not for all thy songs! –
long as thou in all created things
but thyself the center and the end.
spread thy dainty nets for other wings –
high the Anca’s nest for thee, my friend.’
took I shelter from that stormy sea
the good ark of wine; yet, woe is me!
and comrade and minstrel all by turns,
is of maidens the compendium
my poor heart in such a fashion spurns.
HAFIZ, self! That thou must overcome!
the wisdom of the tavern-daughter!
little baggage – well, upon my word!
fairy figment made of clay and water,
busy with thy beauty as a bird.
HAFIZ, Life’s a riddle – give it up:
is no answer to it but this cup.
#487 from Odes
from the Divan of Hafiz (freely rendered from literal
Divan of Hafiz (1905)
English verse by Richard Le Gallienne