Camaron, Me, and ‘Attar

El Padre Santo de Roma

 

Translation:

Lailolailolailo, Leilo …

Holy Father in Rome,
I have to ask
if the sins that I have
if the sins I have,
if the sins I have,
can they be forgiven?

I’m like a sad bird
that goes from branch to branch,
singing its suffering,
singing its suffering,
because it doesn’t know how to cry.

Oh how beautiful are the flowers,
the cheerful spring
with its divine colors.
You are the sea,
I am the sand,
I’ll go with you,
wherever you want.

Europe’s Chapel,
Europe’s Chapel,
overlooking the bay
so pretty and beautiful,
so pretty and beautiful,
the fields of Andalusia.

You are the sea,
I am the sand,
I’ll go with you,
wherever you want.

Original:

Lailolailolailo, leilo…

Al Padre Santo de Roma,
le tengo que preguntar
si los pecados que tengo
si los pecados que tengo,
si los pecados que tengo,
me los puede perdonar.

Soy cómo el pájaro triste,
ay que de rama en rama va,
cantando su sufrimiento,
cantando su sufrimiento,
porque no sabe llorar.

{Olé, Paco}

Ay qué bonitas están las flores,
de la alegre primavera
con sus divinos colores.
Tú eres la mar,
yo soy la arena,
yo voy contigo,
dónde tú quieras.

De la Capilla de Europa,
de la Capilla de Europa,
se divisa la bahía
más bonita y más hermosa,
ay más bonita y más hermosa,
de la vega Andalucía.

Tú eres la mar,
yo soy la arena,
yo voy contigo,
dónde tú quieras.

 

 

You forged these chains and set me free
I’m your dream, you’re my memory
Don’t forget me, I beg you please
My darkness, light, health and disease

My love is yours, so yours is mine
So lift my ore out of this mine
Don’t leave me shrouded in my mind
Love flows behind the clouds of time

Only my death will end our war
My perfections stain your faults
My waves will crash upon your shore
Until your rocks become my salt

 

دلم دردى كه دارد با كه گويد

 

To whom can my heart speak of its pain
     To whom can I repent, for I’ve sinned again?
Alas!  Isn’t there a sympathetic freind
   who would welcome my bad luck?
When you spoke to me of abandonment
   you were a dying person describing death
Why should one wash their hands of you when
   they’re not full at the table of your union?
My heart sees your face through a hundred walls;
   it breathes your scent from a hundred leagues
I won’t forget the rose of your union
   otherwise the thorns will grow upon my grave
Today the grief of ‘Attar’s heart
   speaks or is silent by your decree

-‘Attar

Original:

دلم دردی که دارد با که گوید            گنه خود کرد تاوان از که جوید
دریغا نیست همدردی موافق        که بر بخت بدم خوش خوش بموید
مرا گفتی که ترک ما بگفتی               به ترک زندگانی کس بگوید
کسی کز خوان وصلت سیر نبود            چرا باید که دست از تو بشوید
ز صد بارو دلم روی تو بیند             ز صد فرسنگ بوی تو ببوید
گل وصلت فراموشم نگردد             وگر خار از سر گورم بروید
غم درد دل عطار امروز               چه فرمایی بگوید یا نگوید

 

The Whole World is Drunk

 

 

 

Translation:

O caravan leader, look the camels of the caravan, they are all drunk
The prince is drunk, the shaykh is drunk, the friend is drunk, and the strangers are drunk

 

O gardener, the thunder has become a musician, and the cloud’s become the saki
The garden is drunk, the thicket is drunk, the bud is drunk, and the thorn is drunk

 

O heavens, how long will you turn? Look at the movement of the elements:
The water is drunk, the air is drunk, the earth is drunk, and the fire is drunk

 

That’s what the outward form is like, don’t even ask me about the inner meaning
The spirit is drunk, the intellect is drunk, the body is drunk, the secrets are drunk

 

Go and leave dominance behind, become earth so that you see
Each speck of earth drunk from the dominant Creator

 

Don’t say there’s no drunkeness in winter
It has only hidden itself for a while from the eyes of the cunning

 

The roots of those trees drink wine secretly
Wait a couple of days, when they wake up, they’ll be drunk

 

If you run into trouble from their drunken staggering, don’t worry
With such a saki and musician, the drunks will never walk straight

 

Pour more wine, untie this knot
the drunk won’t submit until the wine reaches his head

 

O saki, pour drinks all around, how long can they brawl
The friends drunk from agreeing and the enemies drunk from denying?

 

Either the saki is stingy or the wine’s gone bad,
But something’s gone wrong if the drunk is walking straight

 

See our yellow faces and give us the rosy wine
Without it there’s no rosiness on the faces of the drunks

 

You have a divine wine so light and so subtle
You could drink a hundred barrels down each day

 

Shams-i-tabrizi, no one is sober around you
Disbeliever and beleiver, prodigal and ascetic and drinker are all drunk

 

 

Original:

                  ساربانا اشتران بین سر به سر قطار مست
میر مست و خواجه مست و یار مست اغیار مست
                     باغبانا رعد مطرب ابر ساقی گشت و شد
باغ مست و راغ مست و غنچه مست و خار مست
                          آسمانا چند گردی گردش عنصر ببین
آب مست و باد مست و خاک مست و نار مست
                  حال صورت این چنین و حال معنی خود مپرس
روح مست و عقل مست و خاک مست اسرار مست
                         رو تو جباری رها کن خاک شو تا بنگری
ذره ذره خاک را از خالق جبار مست
                          تا نگویی در زمستان باغ را مستی نماند
مدتی پنهان شدست از دیده مکار مست
                          بیخ‌های آن درختان می نهانی می‌خورند
روزکی دو صبر می‌کن تا شود بیدار مست
                       گر تو را کوبی رسد از رفتن مستان مرنج
با چنان ساقی و مطرب کی رود هموار مست
                               ساقیا باده یکی کن چند باشد عربده
دوستان ز اقرار مست و دشمنان ز انکار مست
                              باد را افزون بده تا برگشاید این گره
باده تا در سر نیفتد کی دهد دستار مست
                               بخل ساقی باشد آن جا یا فساد باده‌ها
هر دو ناهموار باشد چون رود رهوار مست
                              روی‌های زرد بین و باده گلگون بده
زانک از این گلگون ندارد بر رخ و رخسار مست
                    باده‌ای داری خدایی بس سبک خوار و لطیف
زان اگر خواهد بنوشد روز صد خروار مست
                  شمس تبریزی به دورت هیچ کس هشیار نیست
کافر و مؤمن خراب و زاهد و خمار مست

 

 

 

I am wind, you are fire

Rumi

 

 

 

Translation:

I saw myself as a thorn, so I went towards a rose

I saw myself as vinegar, so I mixed myself in sugar

I was a bowl full of poison, so I went to the cure

I was a cup of dregs, so I dived into the water of life

My eye was full of pain, so I sought Jesus’ hand

I saw myself as raw, so I mixed with the ripe

I found the dust of love’s alley to be the soul’s eye-liner

And I became poetry in the subtlety of that dust I mixed

Love said, “Yes, that’s right,”  you said, “But don’t see it [as coming] from your self.”

I am wind and you are fire, I enliven you and inspire

 

 

Original:

خویش را چون خار دیدم سوی گل بگریختم
خویش را چون سرکه دیدم در شکر آمیختم
کاسه پرزهر بودم سوی تریاق آمدم
ساغری دردی بدم در آب حیوان ریختم
دیده پردرد بودم دست در عیسی زدم
خام دیدم خویش را در پخته‌ای آویختم
خاک کوی عشق را من سرمه جان یافتم
شعر گشتم در لطافت سرمه را می بیختم
عشق گوید راست می گویی ولی از خود مبین
من چو بادم تو چو آتش من تو را انگیختم

 

 

Camaron

 

 

Translation:

 

CHORUS 
I am the wind 
you are the fire 
and I want to burn in your embers 
or you can turn off the light with a little water
Leilere, lere lereilere 

 

2nd verse:
Why don’t you look for me
I need you to find me
my world is a cold forest
in which I lose myself
my world is an empty thing
since only you can relieve me
I’m lost
and my love is so sincere
that sometimes without losing you
I am scared of losing you
if I lose you
I’ll take a kiss from your mouth
and I want to dream of you, awake
with you, with you
Leilere lerelerelereilere

 

 

Original:

Tu mare y la mía
se habían disgustao
pelillos del roete
se han arrancao
Por que no te vienes
y me ayudas a levantarme
no ves que yo estoy caio
tengo el corazón partío tengo el corazón herio
y como no seas tú quien lo alivie
no encuentra alivio

 

ESTRIBILLO
yo soy el viento
tu eres la hoguera
y yo en tus brasas quemarme quisiera
ni el agüita claralo podrá apagar
Leilere, lere lereilere

 

Por qué no me buscas
necesito que me encuentres
mi mundo es un bosque frio
en el que yo me extravio mi mundo es algo vacioy como no seas tú quien lo alivies
yo estoy perdio
Por eso mi cariño es tan sincero
que a veces sin perderte siento miedo
de perderte
si te pierdo
te hago beso de tu boca
y te quiero soñar dispierto
contigo, contigo
Leilere lerelerelereilere

 

Cups and wine and vine-Hafez

Last night I saw the angels
tapping at the wine-shop’s door.
And kneading Adam’s dust,
and molding it as cups for wine;

 

And, where I sat beside the road,
these messengers of heaven
Gave me their wine to drink,
so that their drunkenness was mine.

 

The heavens could not bear
the heavy trust they had been given,
And lots were cast, and crazed
Hafez’s name received the sign

 

Forgive the seventy-two
competing factions- all their tales
Mean that the Truth is what
they haven’t seen and can’t define.

 

But I am thankful that there’s peace
between Him now, and me;
In celebration of our pact
the houris drink their wine-

 

And fire is not what gently smiles
from candles’ flames, it’s what
Annihilates the flocking moths
that flutter round His shrine.

 

Original:

 

دوش دیدم که ملائک در میخانه زدند
گل آدم بسرشتند و به پیمانه زدند

 

ساکنان حرم ستر و عفاف و ملکوت
با من راه نشین باد مستانه زدند

 

شکر ایزد که میان من و او صلح افتاد
صوفیان رقص کنان ساغر شکرانه زدند

 

آسمان بار امانت نتوانست کشید
قرعه فال به نام من دیوانه زدند

 

آتش آن نیست که از شعله او خندد شمع
آتش آنست که در خرمن پروانه زدند

 

جنگ هفتاد و دو ملت همه را عذر بنه
چون ندیدند حقیقت ره افسانه زدند

 

ما بصد خرمن پند و اندرز ره چون نرویم
چون ره آدم خاکی بیکی دانه زدند

 

کس چو حافظ نگشاد از رخ اندیشه نقاب
تا سر زلف عروسان سخن شانه زدند

 

Translation:

When you drink wine, sprinkle
A few drops on the ground—
What’s there to fear from sin
That spreads much joy around?

 

Go, drink up all you have,
Drink now and don’t delay—
Death’s dagger won’t delay
Dispatching you one day.

 

My cypress-slender love,
By the dust on which you tread,
Don’t hesitate to visit
My dust when I am dead

 

In heaven or in hell,
For angels or for men
In every faith — to hold back
Counts as a mortal sin.

 

The architect of heaven
Who gave the world its shape
Has sealed its six directions
So that there’s no escape.

 

The daughter of the vine
Leads Reason all astray—
May the vine’s trellis stand
Unharmed till Judgement Day!

 

And may your dear friends’ prayers,
Hafez, when you depart
Via the wine-shop’s door,
Accompany your heart.

 

 Original:
                  اگر شراب خوری جرعه‌ای فشان بر خاک
از آن گناه که نفعی رسد به غیر چه باک
                 برو به هر چه تو داری بخور دریغ مخور
که بی‌دریغ زند روزگار تیغ هلاک
                       به خاک پای تو ای سرو نازپرور من
که روز واقعه پا وامگیرم از سر خاک
                   چه دوزخی چه بهشتی چه آدمی چه پری
به مذهب همه کفر طریقت است امساک
                            مهندس فلکی راه دیر شش جهتی
چنان ببست که ره نیست زیر دیر مغاک
                      فریب دختر رز طرفه می‌زند ره عقل
مباد تا به قیامت خراب طارم تاک
                      به راه میکده حافظ خوش از جهان رفتی
دعای اهل دلت باد مونس دل پاک

 

Translation:

Good wine, that doesn’t stupefy
That’s served by someone pretty—who
Among the wise men of this world
Escapes the snares set by these two?

 

It’s true I’m dissolute, in love,
Known as a shiftless miscreant…
A thousand thanks, then, that this town
Provides friends who are innocent.

 

If you should step inside our wine shop,
Look to your manners while you’re there—
The crowd that hangs around its door
Are the king’s cronies, so take care!

 

Cruelty is not the way of pilgrims,
Poor men who seek their journey’s end;
Bring wine! These “pilgrims” here are going
Nowhere, for all that they pretend.

 

But don’t despise the beggar’s lost
In hopeless love, don’t put them down—
They’re kings, though this one has no scepter
Monarchs, though that one has no crown

 

Don’t mar your loveliness, don’t let
The glory of your charm be shattered—
You’ll find your servants and your slaves
And all your retinue have scattered

 

I am the slave of those who drink
Life to the dregs, but not of those
Who hide a blackened heart beneath
The showy splendor of their clothes

 

Be ready, for a winnowing wind
Will blow—none of us sha;; remain,
And all devotions’s thousand harvests
Will not be worth a barley grain.

 

Love is the nobler task—up then,
Hafez, and seek it while you may,
For lovers will not let the timid
Amble beside them on love’s way.

 

 

Translations from Dick Davis. Faces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz. Mage, 2012.

 

Original:

شراب بى غش و ساقى خوش دو دام رهند               كه زيركان جهان از كمندشان نرهند
من ار چه عاشقم و رند و مست و نامه سياه               هزار شكر كه ياران شهر بى گنهند
جفا نه پيشه ء درويشى است و راهروى                 بيار باده كه اين سالكان نه مرد رهند
مبين حقير گدايان عشق را كاين قوم                       شهان بى كمر و خسروان بى كلهند
به هوش باش كه هنگام باد استغناء                       هزار خرمن طاعت به نيم جو ننهند
مكن كه كوكبه ء دلبرى شكسته شود                     چو بندگان بگريزند و چاكران بجهند
غلام همت دردى كشان يك رنگم                      نه آن گروه كه ازرق لباس و دل سيهند
قدم منه به خرابات جز به شرط ادب                       كه سالكان درش محرمان پادشهند

جناب عشق بلندست همتى حافظ
كه عاشقان ره بى همتان به خود ندهند

 

And my own Hafez-style poem…

If you see cup and wine as two, you haven’t drunk enough
In this tavern, we drink love’s molten glass, served by the cup

 

And when the sparkling wine is swirled and left still to breathe well
That’s just the glass-blower whispering his secret sculpting spells

 

Not only does this wine redden cups’ sweet cheeks and their lips
Its pouring gives them lovely shapes and their bright translucence

 

The heavens are but spinning glasses cast from frozen wine
How strange that they all seem to fit within this cup of mine

 

Inside my glass, last night, I saw your face, mingling with mine
In drunken clarity, I sipped myself in your outline

 

The fine lines of your lips are just the rippling of this wine
And so we drink and kiss ‘till I can’t tell what’s yours from mine

 

Last night, I got so drunk I sold my soul for cups of wine
I’m back to see what I can get for my body this time

 

My heart’s the secret flask of that most thirsty of madmen
Who drained the wine, drank the dry glass, then downed the whole tavern

 

Bilqis thought our way was water, but soon learned this glass held wine
Sulayman’s tricked many spirits into these bottles of rhymes

 

Though everyone loves wine’s bouquet, who likes the drunkard’s belch?
Be quiet, hold your drink, and keep its secrets to yourself.

When she begins to sway — لمّا بدا يتثنى

Another gem from al-Andalus:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRGlzIhWgAY

 

 

 

 

Translation (of the most common version, in Arabic below):

When she began to sway
my Love’s beauty entranced me
With a glance, she captured me
the branch bends when it sways
O my promise, O my wonder,
None can console my complaint
of love and my sufferings
except the queen of beauty

 

Original:

لما بدا يتثنى
حبي جماله فتنا

 

او ما بلحظه أسرنا 
غصنٌ ثنا حين مال

 

وعدي ويا حيرتي
من لي رحيم في شكوتي
بالحب من لوعتي
إلا مليكُ الجمال

 

Compare with the famous opening of Rumi’s Mathnawi:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tSfqUuipU8

 

 

Translation:

1. Listen to the reed how it narrates a tale,
A tale of all the separations of which it complains.

2. Ever since they cut me from the reed-bed,
Men and women bemoaned my lament.

3. How I wish in separation, a bosom shred and shred,
So as to utter the description of the pain of longing.

4. Whoever becomes distanced from his roots,
Seeks to return to the days of his union.

5. I joined every gathering uttering my lament,
Consorting with the joyous and the sorrowful.

6. Everyone befriended me following his own opinion,
No one sought the secrets from within me.

7. My secret is not far away from my lament,
Yet, eye and ear do not possess that light.

8. Body is not hidden from soul, nor soul from body,
Yet, none has the license to see the soul.

 

–Translation by Seyyed Hossein Nasr. From “The Lament of the
Reed: Rumi,” translated and recited by Seyyed Hossein Nasr,
music directed by Suleyman Ergunerm, 2000.

Original:

 

بشنو از نی چون حکایت می کند
از جدایی ها شکایت می کند

 

کز نیستان تا مرا ببریده اند
از نفیرم مرد و زن نالیده اند

 

سینه خواهم شرحه شرحه از فراق
تا بگویم شرح درد اشتیاق

 

هر کسی کو دور ماند از اصل خویش
بازجوید روزگار وصل خویش

 

من به هر جمعیتی نالان شدم
جفت بدحالان و خوشحالان شدم

 

هر کسی از ظن خود شد یار من
از دورن من نجست اسرار من

 

سر من از نالهٔ من دور نیست
لیک چشم و گوش را آن نور نیست

 

تن ز جان و جان ز تن مستور نیست
لیک کس را دید جان دستور نیست

 

 

Two ghazals of Hafez

No one has seen your face, and yet
Thousands of rivals seek you;
You’re still a bud and yet a hundred
Nightingales entreat you.

 

However far I am from you
(May no one know that place!)
I cannot help but hope that soon
I’ll be in your embrace;

 

And it’s not strange that I should choose
Your street in which to wait –
Thousands of strangers in this world
Are in the selfsame state

 

The loved one doesn’t spare a glance-
The lover must endure it;
And there’s no pain, or if there is
The doctor’s here to cure it.

 

In love, the Sufi meeting house
And wine-shop are one place;
As are all places where we find
The loved one’s radiant face;

 

And what the Sufis make a show of
Can be found equally
Among the monks, before their cross
Within a monastery.

 

Hafez’s cry is not mere nonsense
When all is said and done;
Though it’s a strangely curious tale,
And a perplexing one.

 

 

۶۳. روی تو کس ندید و هزارت رقیب هست

Original:
           روی تو کس ندید و هزارت رقیب هست
در غنچه‌ای هنوز و صدت عندلیب هست
             گر آمدم به کوی تو چندان غریب نیست
چون من در آن دیار هزاران غریب هست
               در عشق خانقاه و خرابات فرق نیست
هر جا که هست پرتو روی حبیب هست
            آن جا که کار صومعه را جلوه می‌دهند
ناقوس دیر راهب و نام صلیب هست
             عاشق که شد که یار به حالش نظر نکرد
ای خواجه درد نیست وگرنه طبیب هست
             فریاد حافظ این همه آخر به هرزه نیست
هم قصه‌ای غریب و حدیثی عجیب هست

 

At dawn, upon the breeze, I caught
the scent of my beloved’s hair
And once again my crazy heart
was laboring in its old despair

 

Out of the garden of my breast
I’ve torn her sapling silhouette
Since when my longings for her blossom,
grief is the bitter fruit they set.

 

Fearing the torment of her love,
I freed my heart from her; but when
My heart dripped blood, the path its drops
marked out…led back to her again

 

I saw the full moon rise above
his castle’s roof, splendid and bright;
But when her shining sun arose
the moon, for shame, concealed its light.

 

I took musicians at their word
and always, everywhere, I sought
For messengers who’d traveled love’s
hard road, and all the news they brought.

 

My lover’s way from end to end,
is good and kind, and little cares
Whether a man tells Muslim beads
or murmurs Christian prayers.

 

May God forgive her eyebrow’s curve
That’s made me weak and powerless,
Since it can comfort, with a glance
A sick man’s feverish distress

 

I was amazed to see Hafez
drink wine last night; but then I knew
Better than to object to this-
he drank as secret Sufis do.

 

۱۴۶. صبا وقت سحر بویی ز زلف یار می‌آورد

Original:
      صبا وقت سحر بویی ز زلف یار می‌آورد
دل شوریده ما را به بو در کار می‌آورد
      من آن شکل صنوبر را ز باغ دیده برکندم
که هر گل کز غمش بشکفت محنت بار می‌آورد
      فروغ ماه می‌دیدم ز بام قصر او روشن
که رو از شرم آن خورشید در دیوار می‌آورد
      ز بیم غارت عشقش دل پرخون رها کردم
ولی می‌ریخت خون و ره بدان هنجار می‌آورد
      به قول مطرب و ساقی برون رفتم گه و بی‌گه
کز آن راه گران قاصد خبر دشوار می‌آورد
      سراسر بخشش جانان طریق لطف و احسان بود
اگر تسبیح می‌فرمود اگر زنار می‌آورد
      عفاالله چین ابرویش اگر چه ناتوانم کرد
به عشوه هم پیامی بر سر بیمار می‌آورد
      عجب می‌داشتم دیشب ز حافظ جام و پیمانه
ولی منعش نمی‌کردم که صوفی وار می‌آورد

 

Translations modified from: Dick Davis.  Faces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz.  Mage, 2012

Along the path…

The love of her beauty is a sea of fire.
      If you’re a lover you’ll burn; such is the path.
Where a bright candle’s flame suddenly heaves
      won’t the moth burn?  Its burning is certain.
If you want love’s secret, leave faith and disbelief.
     What room is there for them in Love’s entrance?
The lover who comes to the path’s first stage
     falls in frailty like a shadow upon the ground.
After a while nothing remains of the shadow
   because the sun lies in wait in a distant place
Many thousands of travellers made pretence of Love
   Mansur is like the gemstone on the seal of the path.
Anyone who claims the pearl of truth from this sea
   is forever cherised in the courts of both worlds
The task of this path is extremely arduous;
   one person each millenium sees the path through
How will you know the people of the path? for they
   first walk on this path, then on the seventh heaven
Along the path, ‘Attar came upon a place
   higher than body and soul, outside of kindness and hate.

 

modified from K. Avery and A. Alizadeh.  Fifty Poems of ‘Attar.  Anomaly, 2007

Original:

    عشق جمال جانان دریای آتشین است
گر عاشقی بسوزی زیرا که راه این است
   جایی که شمع رخشان ناگاه بر فروزند
پروانه چون نسوزد کش سوختن یقین است
   گر سر عشق خواهی از کفر و دین گذر کن
کانجا که عشق آمد چه جای کفر و دین است
   عاشق که در ره آید اندر مقام اول
چون سایه‌ای به خواری افتاده در زمین است
   چون مدتی برآید سایه نماند اصلا
کز دور جایگاهی خورشید در کمین است
   چندین هزار رهرو دعوی عشق کردند
برخاتم طریقت منصور چون نگین است
   هرکس که در معنی زین بحر بازیابد
در ملک هر دو عالم جاوید نازنین است
   کاری قوی است عالی کاندر ره طریقت
بر هر هزار سالی یک مرد راه‌بین است
    تو مرد ره چه دانی زیرا که مرد ره را
اول قدم درین ره بر چرخ هفتمین است
    عطار اندرین ره جایی فتاد کانجا
برتر ز جسم و جان است بیرون ز مهر و کین است

 

 

Translation of lyrics:

Walking, walking, walking alone
I found my gypsy bathing in the river

 

She can not live without me,
I can not live without her,
I am the sun that shines,
she is for me the star,
that illuminates my dream!

 

Walking, walking, walking alone
I found my gypsy bathing in the river

 

She is my joy
When your hair caresses my face,
Between my kisses I get lost gazing in
Your black eyes and I’m going crazy

 

Original:
Caminando,caminando,caminando voy solito
a buscar a mi gitana que lavando esta en el rio!
No puede vivir sin mi,
no puedo vivir sin ella,
yo soy el sol q le alumbra,
ella es para mi la estrella,
la que alumbra mi sueño!

 

Caminando,caminando,caminando voy solito
a buscar a mi gitana que lavando esta en el rio!
Ella es mi alegria
cuando su pelo acaricia mi cara
y entre mis besos yo me pierdo mirando
sus ojos negros y yo me vuelvo loco

 

 

Camaron and Hafez: Love’s Minstrels

Translation of Lyrics:

Strumming the strings of his guitar,
Strumming the strings of his guitar,
A Sultan complained of his Queen.

Two wells of stars, your black eyes,
And a moonless rose, your black hair,
Your black hair, your black hair,
Two wells of stars, your black eyes.

The rosemary bush smells of your body,
The rosemary bush smells of your body,
No jasmine on earth is more tender
No jasmine on earth is more tender.

Although a powerful king, I am a beggar,
Although a powerful king, I am a beggar,
If I lack the flames of your love,
Of your love, of your love,
If I lack the fire of your love.

Do not mess with me anymore,
Do not mess with me anymore,
Because you know too well
Because you tease me
Because you tease me.

Original:
Rasgueando las cuerdas de su guitarra,
Rasgueando las cuerdas de su guitarra,
Un sultán se quejaba de su sultana.
Son dos pozos de estrellas tus ojos negros,
Y una rosa sin luna tu pelo negro,
Tu pelo negro, tu pelo negro,
Son dos pozos de estrellas, tus ojos negros.
A mata de romero huele tu cuerpo,
A mata de romero huele tu cuerpo,
No hay en la tierra mora jazmin mas tierno
No hay en la tierra mora jazmin mas tierno
Siendo un rey poderoso soy un mendigo,
Siendo un rey poderoso soy un mendigo,
Si me faltan las llamas de tu cariño,
De tu cariño, de tu cariño,
Si me faltan las llamas de tu cariño.
No te metas más conmigo,
No te metas más conmigo,
Porque de sobra tú sabes
Que tú roneas conmigo,
Que tú roneas conmigo.

 

Translation:
Love’s minstel has wonderful harmony and melody
Every song in his repertoire has a path to a place
May the world never be empty of the cry of lovers
Because it has a sweet and joyful voice
Although our dreg-draining Pir has neither gold nor force,
He has a sin-forgiving and fault-concealing God
My heart was honoured like this sugar-worshipping fly
Since he became Your desire, he has the splendor of the Huma
It is not far from justice, if he asks around
that king who has a beggar for a neighbor
I showed my bloody tears to the physicians, they said:
“It’s love’s pain and the burning of the liver has the cure”
Avoid the tyranny of glances, for in Love’s way
 Each act has a recompense, and every deed, a reward
That idol of a Christian wine seller well said:
“Enjoy the happiness on the face of a pure one”
O Great King!  Hafiz, a member of your court, recites the fatiha
And desires a prayer from your tongue

 

Original:
          مطرب عشق عجب ساز و نوایی دارد
 نقش هر نغمه که زد راه به جایی دارد
                    عالم از ناله عشاق مبادا خالی
که خوش آهنگ و فرح بخش صدايى دارد
     پیر دردی کش ما گر چه ندارد زر و زور
 خوش عطابخش و خطاپوش خدایی دارد
             محترم دار دلم کاین مگس قندپرست
 تا هواخواه تو شد فر همایی دارد
             از عدالت نبود دور گرش پرسد حال
 پادشاهی که به همسایه گدایی دارد
               اشک خونین بنمودم به طبیبان گفتند
 درد عشق است و جگرسوز دوایی دارد
         ستم از غمزه میاموز که در مذهب عشق
 هر عمل اجری و هر کرده جزایی دارد
           نغز گفت آن بت ترسابچه باده فروش
 شادی روی کسی خور که صفایی دارد
 خسروا حافظ درگاه نشین فاتحه خواند
 و از زبان تو تمنای دعایی دارد

From ‘Imrani, the Jewish Persian poet

My body exhausted, my soul injured, and my heart wounded
I am estranged from the Beloved and distant from myself
I am worn out as the wretched
I am distraught and mournful as the beggars
Having lost the essence of youth,
My soul has grown old for want of strength
Yet!  Despite all these pains which I have,
I will survive should You become my friend
O You whose doorway is the shelter for the dervish
To you everyone has attached the hopes of his heart
Since I have returned to Your Doorway,
Lift me in kindness and sooth my soul

-‘Imrani

Rumi on Karbala

كل يوم عاشوراء وكل ارض كربلاء

Translation:

Where are you, o martyrs of God?
You calamity seekers of the desert of Karbala
Where are you, o you the light-winged lovers
Lighter than the birds of heaven, o celestial soveirgns
Who have opened the gates of the heavenly spheres
You who have released yourself from time and space
Does anyone say to spirit, where are you?
Where are you who have broken the gates of prison
and released all prisoners from their cages
Where are you O open vessel?
Where are you, o voice of the voiceless?

 

Original:

کجایید ای شهیدان خدایی
بلاجویان دشت کربلایی
کجایید ای سبک روحان عاشق
پرنده تر ز مرغان هوایی
کجایید ای شهان آسمانی
بدانسته فلک را درگشایی
کجایید ای ز جان و جا رهیده
کسی مر عقل را گوید کجایی
کجایید ای در زندان شکسته
بداده وام داران را رهایی
کجایید ای در مخزن گشاده
کجایید ای نوای بی نوایی