از انار و از ترنج و شاخ سیب

rabbitinthemoon:

““I want a trouble-maker for a lover, blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame, who quarrels with the sky and fights with fate, who burns like fire on the rushing sea.””

— Rumi

یاری خواهم که فتنه انگیز بود

آتش دل و خونخواره و خونریز بود

با چرخ و ستارگان با ستیز بود

در بحر رود چو آتش تیز بود

I am weary of these tearful people so full of complaining;
that ranting and roaring of the drunkards is my desire.
    I am more eloquent than the nightingale, but because of
vulgar envy a seal is on my tongue, and lamentation is my desire.
    Last night the shaikh went all about the city, lamp in hand,
crying, "I am weary of beast and devil, a man is my desire."
    They said, "He is not to be found, we too have searched." He
answered, "He who is not to be found is my desire."

ــRumi

(TRANSLATED BY Nader Khalili)

مقام امن و

می بی غش و

رفیق شفیق

گرت مدام میسر شود زهی توفیق

Serenity,

pure wine

and a compassionate companion;

Very lucky indeed to have these everlastingly.

ــHafez

ای دوست بیا تا غم فردا نخوریم

واین یک دم عمر را غنیمت شمریم

فردا که از این دیر فنا در گذریم

با هفت هزار سالگان سر به سریم.

Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears

Today of past Regrets and future Fears:

Tomorrow!—Why, Tomorrow I may be

Myself with Yesterday’s Sev’n thousand Years.

ــKhayyám

i came not hither

of my own

free will,

and go against my wish,

a puppet still;

cupbearer!

gird thy loins,

and fetch some wine;

to purge the world’s despite,

my goblet fill.

ـــKhayyám

(translated by Edward FitzGerald)

سال ها دل طلب جام جم از ما می کرد

آنچه خود داشت ز بیگانه تمنا می کرد

گوهری کز صدف کون و مکان بیرون است

طلب از گمشدگان لب دریا می کرد

for years my heart

inquired of me

where Jamshid’s sacred cup might be,

and what

was in its own possession

it asked

from strangers

constantly;

begging the pearl

that’s slipped its shell

from lost souls

wandering

by the sea

ـــHafez

(translated by Dick Davis)

چو دو زلف توست طوقم ز شراب توست شوقم بِنِگر که در چه ذوقم

تو چنین شکر چرایی

ـــRumi

بیا تا گل برافشانیم و می در ساغر اندازیم

فلک را سقف بشکافیم و طرحی نو دراندازیم

Come,

so that we can scatter flowers,

and fill the glass

with wine,

And split

the ceiling of the skies

and try

a new design

ـــHafez

(Translated by Dick Davis)

گر ز مسیح پرسدت مرده چگونه زنده کرد

بوسه بده به پیش او بر لب ما که همچنین

if they ask you,

‘how did Jesus

raise the dead?’

give me a kiss

in front of them

on the lips,

and say

like this.

ــRumi

show me your face

i crave

flowers and gardens

open your lips

i crave

the taste of honey

come out from

behind the clouds

i desire a sunny face

your voice echoed

saying “leave me alone”

i wish to hear your voice

again saying “leave me alone”

i swear this city without you

is a prison

i am dying to get out

to roam in deserts and mountains

i am tired of

flimsy friends and

submissive companions

i die to walk with the brave

am blue

hearing nagging voices

and meek cries

i desire loud music

drunken parties

and wild dance

one hand holding

a cup of wine

one hand caressing your hair

then dancing in orbital circle

that is what i yearn for

i can sing better than any nightingale

but because of

this city’s freaks

i seal my lips

while my heart weeps

yesterday the wisest man

holding a lit lantern

in daylight

was searching around town saying

i am tired of

all these beasts and brutes

i seek a true human

we have all looked

for one but

no one could be found

they said

yes he replied

but my search

is for the one

who cannot be found

ــRumi

(A POETIC TRANSLATION OF THIS GHAZAL BY Nader Khalili)

بر حاشیه ی کتاب چون نقطه ی شک

بی کار نیَم اگرچه در کار نیَم

On the margin of the book

like a mark of doubt;

I’m not idle

even though I don’t

join in

ــAbū-Sa’īd Abul-Khayr

Some in deep thought spirit seek
Some lost in awe, of doubt reek
I fear the voice, hidden but not weak
Cry out “awake! Both ways are oblique.”

ــKhayyám

Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire!
Would not we shatter it to bits-and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire!

ــKhayyám

(Translated by Fitzgerald)