Ghazal 02
Where is sensible action, & my insanity whence?
See the difference, it is from where to whence.
From the church & hypocritical vestments, I take offence
Where is the abode of the Magi, & sweet wine whence?
For dervishes, piety and sensibility make no sense
Where is sermon and hymn, & the violin's music whence.
Upon seeing our friend, our foes put up their defense
Where is a dead lantern, & the candle of the sun whence?
My eye-liner is the dust of your door and fence
Where shall I go, tell me, you command me whence?
Take your focus from your chin to the trap on the path hence,
Where to O heart, in such hurry you go whence?
May his memory of union be happy and intense
Where are your amorous gestures, & your reproach whence?
Make not restlessness & insomnia, Hafiz's sentence
What is rest, which is patience, and sleep whence?
© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
Februaru 1, 2000
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Related quotes
Ghazal 01
O beautiful wine-bearer, bring forth the cup and put it to my lips
Path of love seemed easy at first, what came was many hardships.
With its perfume, the morning breeze unlocks those beautiful locks
The curl of those dark ringlets, many hearts to shreds strips.
In the house of my Beloved, how can I enjoy the feast
Since the church bells call the call that for pilgrimage equips.
With wine color your robe, one of the old Magi’s best tips
Trust in this traveler’s tips, who knows of many paths and trips.
The dark midnight, fearful waves, and the tempestuous whirlpool
How can he know of our state, while ports house his unladen ships.
I followed my own path of love, and now I am in bad repute
How can a secret remain veiled, if from every tongue it drips?
If His presence you seek, Hafiz, then why yourself eclipse?
Stick to the One you know, let go of imaginary trips.
© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
April 9, 1999
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Where is my Ruined Life ?
WHERE is my ruined life, and where the fame
Of noble deeds?
Look on my long-drawn road, and whence it came,
And where it leads!
Can drunkenness be linked to piety
And good repute?
Where is the preacher's holy monody,
Where is the lute?
From monkish cell and lying garb released,
Oh heart of mine,
Where is the Tavern fane, the Tavern priest,
Where is the wine?
Past days of meeting, let the memory
Of you be sweet!
Where are those glances fled, and where for me
Reproaches meet?
His friend's bright face warms not the enemy
When love is done--
Where is the extinguished lamp that made night day,
Where is the sun?
Balm to mine eyes the dust, my head I bow
Upon thy stair.
Where shall I go, where from thy presence? thou
Art everywhere.
Look not upon the dimple of her chin,
Danger lurks there!
Where wilt thou hide, oh trembling heart, fleeing in
Such mad haste--where?
To steadfastness and patience, friend, ask not
If Hafiz keep--
Patience and steadfastness I have forgot,
And where is sleep?
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Ghazal 03
That beautiful Shirazi Turk, took control and my heart stole,
I'll give Samarkand & Bukhara, for her Hindu beauty mole.
O wine-bearer bring me wine, such wine not found in Heavens
By running brooks, in flowery fields, spend your days and stroll.
Alas, these sweet gypsy clowns, these agitators of our town
Took the patience of my heart, like looting Turks take their toll.
Such unfinished love as ours, the Beloved has no need,
For the Perfect Beauty, frills and adornments play no role.
I came to know Joseph's goodness, that daily would increase
Even the chaste Mistress succumbed to the love she would extol.
Whether profane or even cursed, I'll reply only in praise
Sweetness of tongue and the lips, even bitterness would enthrall.
Heed the advice of the wise, make your most endeared goal,
The fortunate blessed youth, listen to the old wise soul.
Tell tales of song and wine, seek not secrets of the world,
None has found and no-one will, knowledge leaves this riddle whole.
You composed poems and sang, Hafiz, you spent your days well
Venus wedded to your songs, in the firmaments' inverted bowl.
© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
October 18, 1999
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Insomnia
Im running in quicksand
Somethings haunting me
The guilty past Ive buried
My mind wont let me sleep
Ill do anything for peace - I keep waking up
A solemn oath I make
Cross my heart please let me sleep - I keep waking up
How much more do I take
My head is talking to me
I dont know what it needs
But the loudest voice
Is the one I heed
Insomnia, my swollen bloodshot eyes
Insomnia, awake till morning light
Insomnia, stirring deep inside
Insomnia, somebody turn out the lights
I cant sleep - insomnia
Im twisting and turning - I keep waking up
The madness I must tame
My candle is burning - I keep waking up
Both ends again today
The whole house is creaking
I know theyre out there
The things kept from sight
I beg to the shadows
I cant sleep
Insomnia, footsteps on the walk
Insomnia, I hear someone knock
Insomnia, I wish it was a dream
Insomnia, can you hear me scream
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Defense and offence.
Defense is a kind of offence;
Offence is a smart defense.
Offence is to break defense.
Defense is to thwart offence.
As predator, one needs offence.
As a prey, one needs defense.
Otherwise defense is as bad as offence.
12.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On Being a Poet
When Hafiz
sang the poetry in his heart
in the beautiful gardens of Shiraz
they said his voice was like
pouring light into a cup
when the soul is thirsty
so no-one wrote it down; for
the page does not always sing;
better now, to seek out an old woman
who had heard Hafiz when she was young,
ask her to speak those verses
as she remembered them
or even to ask her grandchild
who remembered the light
of his voice in her grandmother’s eyes.
Because Hafiz
never saw anyone
who is not God
he called God sometimes Friend,
sometimes Beloved,
or Sweet Uncle, Generous Merchant,
The Immediate One,
The Problem Giver,
The Problem Solver, or
The Clever Rascal.
Because Hafiz
never saw anywhere
which is not God
he gave God’s address as
sometimes the holes in the roof,
or the cracks in the walls,
or even the back door
of a favourite pub
where God is the dancer,
the musician, the wine,
the beautiful companion.
Hafiz knew
we need poets
to bring rest and refreshment
because separation from God
is the hardest work in the world.
So don’t do a thing;
just rest there, and
we’ll bring you what you need.
*
[To Daniel Ladinsky, translator of 'Hafiz',
Shams-ud-din Muhammad,
c.1320-1389]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Bring Perfumes Sweet To Me
FROM out the street of So-and-So,
Oh wind, bring perfumes sweet to me
For I am sick and pale with woe;
Oh bring me rest from misery!
The dust that lies before her door,
Love's long desired elixir, pour
Upon this wasted heart of mine--
Bring me a promise and a sign!
Between the ambush of mine eyes
And my heart's fort there's enmity--
Her eye-brow's bow, the dart that flies,
Beneath her lashes, bring to me!
Sorrow and absence, glances cold,
Before my time have made me old;
A wine-cup from the hand of Youth
Bring me for pity and for ruth!
Then shall all unbelievers taste
A draught or two of that same wine;
But if they like it not, oh haste!
And let joy's flowing cup be mine.
Cup-bearer, seize to-day, nor wait
Until to-morrow!--or from Fate
Some passport to felicity,
Some written surety bring to me!
My heart threw back the veil of woe,
Consoled by Hafiz melody:
From out the street of So-and-So,
Oh wind, bring perfumes sweet to me!
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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~Insomnia~
No sight
Insomnia
I dream
I'm awake
I sleep
Mingle between both
Insomnia
Blurry
Fuzzy
Awake all night
I'm not alone
Insomnia
No sleep
I'm tired
Dusk is death
Dawn is suicide
Insomnia
Less sleep
I'm awake more
Time slips
Lake of sleep
Insomnia
Rain of dreams
Lucid yet unclear
I reach
Grasp nothing
Insomnia
Awake
Asleep
Both
Same time
Insomnia
poem by Andrew John Morra
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Indifference / Alive
I will light the match this mornin' so I won't be alone
Watch as she lies silent for soon that will be gone
Oh I will stand arms outstretched pretend I'm free to roam
I will make my way through one more day in hell
How much difference does it make
How much difference does it make
I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm
Oh I'll keep takin' punches ha-ha until their will grows tired
Oh I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind
Hey I won't change direction and I won't change my mind
How much difference does it make yea
How much difference does it make how much difference
I'll swallow poison until I grow immune
I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room
How much difference (x2)
How much difference does it make yea
How much difference does it make
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep Return to Me
Sleep has eluded me
leaving me with
a sense of a lack
of awareness
and a lack
of focus.
One nights rest
disturbed
a multitude
of time leaves
a teetering mind
and a wavering heart
Sleep Oh sleep
where hath thee gone?
I need you
to help me
regain focus through
the rest that you give
Sleep, return to me.
Come As You Are (LP Version)
Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lay not reproach at the drunkard's door
LAY not reproach at the drunkard's door
Oh Fanatic, thou that art pure of soul;
Not thine on the page of life to enrol
The faults of others! Or less or more
I have swerved from my path--keep thou to thine own
For every man when he reaches the goal
Shall reap the harvest his hands have sown.
Leave me the hope of a former grace--
Till the curtain is lifted none can tell
Whether in Heaven or deepest Hell,
Fair or vile, shall appear his face.
Alike the drunk and the strict of fare
For his mistress yearns--in the mosque Love doth dwell
And the church, for his lodging is everywhere.
If without the house of devotion I stand,
I am not the first to throw wide the door
My father opened it long before,
The eternal Paradise slipped from his hand.
All you that misconstrue my words' intent,
I lie on the bricks of the tavern floor,
And a brick shall serve me for argument.
Heaven's garden future treasures may yield--
Ah, make the most of earth's treasury!
The flickering shade of the willow-tree,
And the grass-grown lip of the fruitful field.
Trust not in deeds--the Eternal Day
Shall reveal the Creator's sentence on thee;
But till then, what His finger has writ, who can say.
Bring the cup in thine hand to the Judgment-seat;
Thou shalt rise, oh Hafiz, to Heaven's gate
From the tavern where thou hast tarried late.
And if thou hast worshipped wine, thou shalt meet
The reward that the Faithful attain;
If such thy life, then fear not thy fate,
Thou shalt not have lived and worshipped in vain.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Rubaiyat 25
O friend, from your foes your heart release,
In pleasant company drink the good wine with ease.
Confer with those who know, open your heart
And from the ignorant fleas flee like the breeze.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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A Dream Fallen Out Of Sleep
Outside the abode of our sleep
Somewhere a dream burns
Somewhere tears sparkle
Somewhere a moon smoulders
Outside the abode of our sleep
Somewhere the sun rises
Somewhere the black beauty - night
Street walks
Somewhere an earthen lamp
Hides behind a facade
Outside the abode or our sleep
Somewhere bright birds flutter
Somewhere beasts of prey prowl
Somewhere there's a memory - forest
A desert there is - and a watershed
Somewhere a snowscape burns
Outside the abode of our sleep
Somewhere there's a cloud-burst
Eyes stare in longing
Somewhere in the ocean of the heart
Someone burns to a dry death
Outside the abode of our sleep
Somewhere two flowers bloom
Somewhere we see each other every day
Somewhere the wounds are sutured
Outside the abode of our sleep
Somewhere a roof is lit up
A door is afire
Somewhere hidden
Somewhere revealed
Outside the abode of our sleep
A dream burns.
Poem by: Naseer Ahmed Nasir,1979.
Translated from Urdu into English by Dr. Satyapal Anand
Copyrights (C) All rights reserved.
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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My dear music
Some music...
Make mad...
Some music
Make nice mood...
Some music...
Make happy...
Some music
To do dance...
Some music
Malking a sleep...
Some music
Killing sleep...
Some music
Making angry...
Music... is
Not only music...
Thear is all
But...
Nothing for all...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Los Angeles
City of glam, city of crime
People are fake, you're no friend of mine
Club fights, dancing through the night
We're kids living the dream under the lights
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
City of High, city of low
Selling drugs, we're losing our souls
Walking the strip with one goal
We're gonna live our dream, no one can stop us all
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
Girls in my world
Music in my ears
Pain in my tears
Rock in my veins
Nothing in my brain
I think i'm going insane
That's all i need in Los Angeles
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles
poem by by unknown author
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Drops of his Heart's Blood
THE nightingale with drops of his heart's blood
Had nourished the red rose, then came a wind,
And catching at the boughs in envious mood,
A hundred thorns about his heart entwined.
Like to the parrot crunching sugar, good
Seemed the world to me who could not stay
The wind of Death that swept my hopes away.
Light of mine eyes and harvest of my heart,
And mine at least in changeless memory!
Ah, when he found it easy to depart,
He left the harder pilgrimage to me!
Oh Camel-driver, though the cordage start,
For God's sake help me lift my fallen load,
And Pity be my comrade of the road!
My face is seamed with dust, mine eyes are wet.
Of dust and tears the turquoise firmament
Kneadeth the bricks for joy's abode; and yet . . .
Alas, and weeping yet I make lament!
Because the moon her jealous glances set
Upon the bow-bent eyebrows of my moon,
He sought a lodging in the grave-too soon!
I had not castled, and the time is gone.
What shall I play? Upon the chequered floor
Of Night and Day, Death won the game-forlorn
And careless now, Hafiz can lose no more.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Fencing
fence out despair
it does nothing good for the grass on the yard
fence in hope
for they are like finches that feed on the grains
to include the wastes of the kitchen
fence out doubt
they do nothing but crowd the room
like uninvited guests
who always ask for glasses of wine
though you want to close out
but they always persist in drunkenness
fence it love
you know what it can do to your bed
and the linens
and the bathroom
it gives you a sense of beginning
a feeling of eternity
when you have forgotten how to moan
fence out loneliness
you know how it destroys you
and deprives you of much needed sleep
when your eyes sink
like boats in the whirlpools of madness
but at any rate when these fenced out matters
still remain
such as the loneliness that you cannot drive away
or the doubt that still cling like dusts in the furniture
no matter how you dust them away
or the despair that appears like blood stains
in your pastel green carpets
well, why not be with them
and make them feel that they are at home with you
perhaps
they mean no harm
they do nothing
except to make you feel
that you are not alone
that happiness is a freak
that life is like all these
whole in sadness
undefeated in our psychological wars
that after all
they are your sources of strength
the tests of your mettle.
welcome them
after all they have nothing to stay
except in your
house of realities.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 47
A padshah was casting a glanced of contempt upon a company of dervishes and one of them, understanding by his sagacity the meaning of it, said: ‘O king, in this world we are inferior to thee in dignity but more happy in life. In death we are equal and in the resurrection superior to thee.’
Though the master of a country may have enjoyment
And the dervish may be in need of bread
In that hour when both of them will die
They will take from the world not more than a shroud.
When thou takest thy departure from the realm
It will be better to be a mendicant than a padshah.
Externally the dervish shows a patched robe and a shaved head but in reality his heart is living and his lust dead.
He does not sit at the door of pretence away from people
To fight against them if they oppose him
Because when a millstone rolls from a mountain
He is not an A’rif who gets out of the way of the stone.
The way of dervishes is praying, gratitude, service, obedience, almsgiving, contentment, professing the unity of God, trust, submission and patience. Whoever possesses these qualities is really a dervish, although he may wear an elegant robe, whereas a prattler who neglects his orisons, is luxurious, sensual, turns day into night in the bondage of lust, and night into day in the sleep of carelessness, eats whatever he gets, and speaks whatever comes upon his tongue, is a profligate, although he may wear the habit of a dervish.
O thou whose interior is denuded of piety
But wearest outwardly the garb of hypocrisy
Do not display a curtain of seven colours.
Thou hast reed mats inside thy house.
Vintage Stuff
sweet
finds it misery
thou looking alluring taste
stopped eyes
poignantly crazy, hail on the
ride seems happy, a
mixed feeling brings another date to
find what is great
mix it up,
with the Vintage stuff in my hand
the future is on
my command shouts the liner
game, sleep tells
another story
yet, when the eyes find its
beauty the beholder resists looking for
another victory, wearing the key of
heart that goes, let all
the sweet story
fell the emptiness of your smile
and settle down that haven
for me
interest determined the truth of every
journey, find the Vintage
high way my friend.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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