I know the way you can get When you have not had a drink of Love: Your face hardens, Your sweet muscles cramp. Children become concerned About a strange look that appears in your eyes Which even begins to worry your own mirror And nose.
Squirrels and birds sense your sadness And call an important conference in a tall tree. They decide which secret code to chant To help your mind and soul.
Even angels fear that brand of madness That arrays itself against the world And throws sharp stones and spears into The innocent And into one’s self O I know the way you can get If you have not been out drinking Love:
You might rip apart Every sentence your friends and teachers say, Looking for hidden clauses. You might weigh every word on a scale Like a dead fish.
NOT one is filled with madness like to mine In all the taverns! my soiled robe lies here, There my neglected book, both pledged for wine. With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear, A glass to mirror forth the Great King’s face; One ray of light from out Thy dwelling-place To pierce my night, oh God! and draw me near.
From out mine eyes unto my garment’s hem A river flows; perchance my cypress-tree Beside that stream may rear her lofty stem, Watering her roots with tears. Ah, bring to me The wine vessel! since my Love’s cheek is hid, A flood of grief comes from my heart unbid, And turns mine eyes into a bitter sea!
Nay, by the hand that sells me wine, I vow No more the brimming cup shall touch my lips, Until my mistress with her radiant brow Adorns my feast-until Love’s…
Saints Bowing in the Mountains Do you know how beautiful you are? I think not, my dear.
For as you talk of God, I see great parades with wildly colorful bands Streaming from your mind and heart, Carrying wonderful and secret messages To every corner of this world.
I see saints bowing in the mountains Hundreds of miles away To the wonder of sounds That break into light
From your most common words. Speak to me of your mother, Your cousins and your friends. Tell me of squirrels and birds you know.
Awaken your legion of nightingales –
Let them soar wild and free in the sky And begin to sing to God. Let’s all begin to sing to God!
Do you know how beautiful you are? I think not, my dear, Yet Hafiz Could set you upon a Stage And worship you forever!
If a naive and desperate man Brings a precious stone To the only jeweler in town, Wanting to sell it, The jeweler’s eyes Will begin to play a game, Like most eyes in the world when they look at you.
The jeweler’s face will stay calm. He will not want to reveal the stone’s true value, But to hold the man captive to fear and greed While he calculates The value of the transaction.
But one moment with me, my dear, Will show you That there is nothing, Nothing Hafiz wants from you.
When you sit before a Master like me, Even if you are a drooling mess, My eyes sing with Excitement They see your Divine Worth
― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, (1325 – 1389 )
O keep squeezing drops of the Sun From your prayers and work and music And from your companions’ beautiful laughter And from the most insignificant movements Of your own holy body.
Now, sweet one, Be wise. Cast all your votes for Dancing!
― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, (1325 – 1389 )
THE rose is not fair without the beloved’s face, Nor merry the Spring without the sweet laughter of wine; The path through the fields, and winds from a flower strewn place, Without her bright check, which glows like a tulip fine, Nor winds softly blowing, fields deep in corn, are fair.
― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, (1325 – 1389 )
There are so many gifts Still unopened from your birthday, there are so many hand-crafted presents that have been sent to you by God. The Beloved does not mind repeating, “Everything I have is also yours.”
― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, (1325 – 1389 )
“There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far too deep for that.
In one well You have just a few precious cups of water, That “love” is literally something of yourself, It can grow as slow as a diamondIf it is lost.
Your love Should never be offered to the mouth of a Stranger, Only to someone Who has the valor and daring To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife Then weave them into a blanket To protect you.
There are different wells within us. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far, far too deep For that.” ― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, (1325 – 1389 )
This rose is from the dust of one like me. His joy within the rose, thus I can see. My companion and confidant it is, because The colorful rose brings the sweet scent of divine
― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Shams-al-Din Mohammad Hafez, (1325 – 1389 )
Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī (Persian: خواجه شمسالدین محمد حافظ شیرازی), known by his pen name Hāfez (1325/1326 – 1389/1390), was a Persian lyric Sufi poet.
No Conflict When the flute is playing For then I see every movement emanates From God’s Holy Dance.
by Hafiz (1320 – 1389)
On a simple level, the flute is like a plaintive, purified human voice, calling out — an expression of longing.
The flute is also hollow, empty, and it is precisely because of this emptiness that its sound is so pure.
On a more esoteric level, each human being is a living flute. The hollow reed is the sushumna, the central spiritual channel that parallels the spine. The holes of the flute are the chakras that open out from the sushumna.
Living music is produced when the breath of God flows through this hollow reed, producing bliss, producing the sound of God. The sound heard is a soft…
1. जाति न पूछो साध की , पूछ लीजिये ग्यान। मोल करो तरवार का , पड़ा रहन दो म्यान।
हिंदी व्याख्या- यहाँ कबीर जी कहते हैं कि हमें साधु की जाति नहीं पूछनी चाहिए। अगर पूछना ही है तो उसका ज्ञान पूछना चाहिए। उसी प्रकार हमें तलवार का ही मोल-भाव करना चाहिए अथार्थ हमें तलवार को ही मुख्य मानना चाहिए न कि म्यान को। कहने का भाव है व्यक्ति के असली गुण को ही पूछना चाहिए।
English Explanation and Meaning – Kabir says that we must not ask a saint its Nationality or Caste. If we have to know anything about him that must be his knowledge. In the same way, we must bargain for the sword without giving importance to sheath. In other words, we must give importance to internal quality.
“POLISH the mirror of your heart until it reflects every person’s light.”
Kamand Kojouri
Kamand Kojouri was born in Tehran, raised in Dubai and Toronto, and resides in Wales. She currently teaches creative writing seminars as a doctoral candidate at Swansea University.