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The Poems I. Arise, Oh Cup-Bearer, Rise! And Bring, Poems From The DIvan Of Hafiz

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Poems from the Divan of Hafiz, by Getrude Lowthian Bell, [1897] ARISE, oh Cup-bearer, rise! and bring To lips that are thirsting the bowl they praise, For it seemed that love was an easy thing, But my feet have fallen on difficult ways. I have prayed the wind o'er my heart to fling The fragrance of musk in her hair that sleeps In the night of her hair-yet no fragrance stays The tears of my heart's blood my sad heart weeps. Hear the Tavern-keeper who counsels you: "With wine, with red wine your prayer carpet dye! There was never a traveller like him but knew The ways of the road and the hostelry. Where shall I rest, when the still night through, Beyond thy gateway, oh Heart of my heart, The bells of the camels lament and cry: "Bind up thy burden again and depart! The waves run high, night is clouded with fears, And eddying whirlpools clash and roar; How shall my drowning voice strike their ears Whose light-freighted vessels have reached the shore? I sought mine own; the unsparing years Have brought me mine own, a dishonoured name. What cloak shall cover my misery o'er When each jesting mouth has rehearsed my shame! Oh Hafiz, seeking an end to strife, Hold fast in thy mind what the wise have writ: "If at last thou attain the desire of thy life, Cast the world aside, yea, abandon it!"

Table of Contents

I. Arise, Oh Cup-Bearer, Rise! And Bring
Ii. The Bird Of Gardens Sang Unto The Rose
Iii. Wind From The East, Oh Lapwing Of The Day
Iv. Sleep On Thine Eyes, Bright As Narcissus Flowers
V. Oh Turkish Maid Of Shiraz! In Thy Hand
Vi. A Flower-Tinted Cheek, The Flowery Close
Vii. From The Garden Of Heaven A Western Breeze
Viii. The Rose Has Flushed Red, The Bud Has Burst
Ix. Oh Cup-Bearer, Set My Glass Afire
X. Singer, Sweet Singer, Fresh Notes Strew
Xi. Mirth, Spring, To Linger In A Garden Fair
Xii. Where Is My Ruined Life, And Where The Fame Of Noble Deeds?
Xiii. Lady That Hast My Heart Within Thy Hand
Xiv. The Nightingale With Drops Of His Heart'S Blood
Xv. Return! That To A Heart Wounded Full Sore
Xvi. What Is Wrought In The Forge Of The Living And Life
Xvii. Lay Not Reproach At The Drunkard'S Door
Xviii. Slaves Of Thy Shining Eyes Are Even Those
Xix. What Drunkenness Is This That Brings Me Hope
Xx. From Out The Street Of So-And-So
Xxi. Not All The Sum Of Earthly Happiness
Xxii. The Rose Is Not Fair Without The Beloved'S Face
Xxiii. My Lady, That Did Change This House Of Mine
Xxiv. Not One Is Filled With Madness Like To Mine
Xxv. The Days Of Absence And The Bitter Nights
Xxvi. The Secret Draught Of Wine And Love Repressed
Xxvii. My Friend Has Fled! Alas, My Friend Has Fled
Xxviii. Hast Thou Forgotten When Thy Stolen Glance
Xxix. From Canaan Joseph Shall Return, Whose Face
Xxx. All Hail, Shiraz, Hail! Oh Site Without Peer!
Xxxi. The Breath Of Dawn'S Musk-Strewing Wind Shall Blow
Xxxii. Upon A Branch Of The Straight Cypress-Tree
Xxxiii. The Jewel Of The Secret Treasury
Xxxiv. Last Night I Dreamed That Angels Stood Without
Xxxv. Forget Not When Dear Friend To Friend Returned
Xxxvi. Beloved, Who Has Bid Thee Ask No More
Xxxvii. Arise! And Fill A Golden Goblet Up
Xxxviii. I Cease Not From Desire Till My Desire
Xxxix. Cypress And Tulip And Sweet Eglantine
Xl. The Margin Of A Stream, The Willow'S Shade
Xli. The Days Of Spring Are Here! The Eglantine
Xlii. True Love Has Vanished From Every Heart
Xliii. Where Are The Tidings Of Union? That I May Arise

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1 Sahil Badruddin = "“I will take one hundred barrels of wine tonight,” wrote Omar Khayyám in his superb Rubáiyát. “I will leave all reason and religion behind, and take the maidenhead of wine for mine.” Khayyám’s wine is spiritual wine—it represents “the grace of the Lord of the World”—and the Sufi is he who has rejected the traditional ideals of religious piety and moral behavior, who has fled “reason and the tangled web of the intellect,” in order to fill the cup of his heart with the intoxicating wine of God’s love.So says Hafiz: “Piety and moral goodness have naught to do with ecstasy; stain your prayer rug with wine!"-No god but God, Reza Aslan "