Showing posts with label Ghazal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ghazal. Show all posts

Saturday, October 31, 2015

What is Ghazal?


The ghazal is: 
a poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets and a refrain, with each line sharing the same meter. A ghazal may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain. The form is ancient, originating in Arabic poetry in Arabia long before the birth of Islam. The term Ghazal is of North African and Middle Eastern origin. Its root term in Arabic is " gh-zl " and is derived from the Arabian panegyric qasida. The structural requirements of the ghazal are similar in stringency to those of the Petrarchan sonnet.

World : 
The ghazal spread into South Asia in the 12th century due to the influence of Sufi mystics and the courts of the new Islamic Sultanate. Although the ghazal is most prominently a form of Dari poetry and Urdu poetry, today it is found in the poetry of many languages of the Indian sub-continent.

Famous poets : 
Ghazals were written by Rumi and Hafiz of Persia; the Azeri poet Fuzûlî in the Ottoman Empire; Mirza Ghalib and Muhammad Iqbal of North India; and Kazi Nazrul Islam of Bengal. Through the influence of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832), the ghazal became very popular in Germany during the 19th century; the form was used extensively by Friedrich Rückert (1788–1866) and August von Platen (1796–1835). The Kashmiri poet Agha Shahid Ali was a proponent of the form, both in English and in other languages;

Sufism :
It is not possible to gain a full understanding of ghazal poetry without at least being familiar with some concepts of Sufism.[citation needed] Many of the major historical ghazal poets were either avowed Sufis themselves (like Rumi or Hafiz), or were sympathizers with Sufi ideas. Most ghazals can be viewed in a spiritual context, with the Beloved being a metaphor for God, or the poet's spiritual master. It is the intense Divine Love of Sufism that serves as a model for all the forms of love found in ghazal poetry.

Themes :
Most ghazal scholars today recognize that some ghazal couplets are exclusively about Divine Love (ishq-e-haqiqi), others are about "earthly love" (ishq-e-majazi), but many of them can be interpreted in either context.

Traditionally invoking melancholy, love, longing, and metaphysical questions, ghazals are often sung by Afghan, Pakistani, and Indian musicians. The form has roots in seventh-century Arabia, and gained prominence in the thirteenth- and fourteenth-century thanks to such Persian poets as Rumi and Hafiz and later due to Indian poets such as Mirza Ghalib.

Deep roots : 
The word Ghazal comes from an Arabic word that means the mortal cry of Kasturi deer. Kasturi is a deer that has a fragrance in its body that is not known to him. The deer has to be killed to obtain this Kasturi fragrance. Ghazal is a poignant form of poetry that tries to capture the same mortal cry that comes out of the deer when he is being killed for the fragrance.

Meaning: 
The central theme of a ghazal is love but it is capable of producing an extraordinary range of expressions with seemingly simple and ordinary words. This form of poetry is always portrays the word from the point of view of a lover who has not been able to get his lover in the physical sense of the word. The description of the lover and her physical and emotional features is laden with metaphors making Ghazals very meaningful.
Ghazal contains several shers and all of these shers are complete poems in themselves giving a message. Rhythm in ghazal is expressed through matla (first sher) and a ghazal always ends with a takhallus which is the pen name of the writer. This takhallus is contained in the last sher of the ghazal which is called Makta.

Hafez Works


Works :
Some 500 ghazals, 42 Rubaiyees, and a few Ghaseedeh's, composed over a period of 50 years. Hafiz only composed when he was divinely inspired, and therefore he averaged only about 10 Ghazals per year. His focus was to write poetry worthy of the Beloved.

Hafiz did not compile his poetry. Mohammad Golandaam, who also wrote a preface to his compilation, completed it in 813 A.H or 1410 a.d, some 21-22 years after Hafiz's death.

Also another person who compiled Hafiz's poetry was one of his young disciples Sayyid Kasim-e Anvar, who collected 569 Ghazals attributed to Hafiz. He died in 1431 a.d. some 42-43 years after Hafiz's death.


Friday, October 30, 2015

Hafez - Ghazal 53

The corner of the tavern is my altar, where I pray
At dawn, the mantra of the Old Magi, I say.
Fear not if the harp plays not at sun's morning ascent
My morning cry of repentance is the music I play.
Thank God, free from beggars and kings, away, I stay;
Homage, to the beggar at the door of the Beloved, I pay.
For Thee, in the mosque and the tavern, my time, I spent;
By God, from this intent, I never ran nor walked astray.
Only, Angel of Death's blade can uproot my tent
Running from love and grace has never been my way.
From the time that I made my search for Thee my intent
I lean upon the throne on which the sun may lay.
Not your fault was the sins that were put into your clay
Nonetheless accept them, Hafiz, and good taste display.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
October 20, 1999

















- Original -
منـم که گوشه میخانه خانقاه من است 
دعای پیر مغان ورد صبحگاه مـن اسـت 
گرم ترانـه چنگ صبوح نیست چـه باک 
نوای من به سحر آه عذرخواه من اسـت 
ز پادشاه و گدا فارغـم بـحـمدالـلـه 
گدای خاک در دوست پادشاه من اسـت 
غرض ز مسجد و میخانه‌ام وصال شماست 
جز این خیال ندارم خدا گواه مـن اسـت 
مـگر بـه تیغ اجل خیمه برکنـم ور نی 
رمیدن از در دولت نه رسم و راه من است 
از آن زمان که بر این آستان نـهادم روی 
فراز مسند خورشید تکیه گاه من اسـت 
گـناه اگر چـه نـبود اختیار ما حافـظ 
تو در طریق ادب باش و گو گناه من
  است

Hafez - Ghazal 51

My eyes drown in tears, yet thirst for but one chance
I'll give away my whole life, for Beloved, but one glance.
Be ashamed of Beloved's beautiful eyes and long lashes
If you have seen what I have, and still deny me my trance.
O traveler, leave these city gates behind and go back
Tread the same path, and towards my Beloved you'll advance.
With such shortage of love, I submit to my fate
That drunken gypsy's love is now my circumstance.
The aromatic flowers, the perfume of that hair
Is only a sample from my Perfumer's fragrance.
O gardener, like the breeze, do not drive me away,
You water your flowers with my tears' assistance.
Ordered me to drink much from my lover's sweet lips
And healed my sickened heart by taking such joyous stance.
The one who taught Hafiz, how his ghazals enhance,
Is none but my silent friend, with a sweet parlance.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
October 20, 1999
















- Original -
لعل سیراب به خون تشنه لب یار من است 
وز پی دیدن او دادن جان کار مـن اسـت 
شرم از آن چشم سیه بادش و مژگان دراز 
هر که دل بردن او دید و در انکار من است 
ساروان رخـت به دروازه مـبر کان سر کو 
شاهراهیسـت که منزلگه دلدار من است 
بـنده طالـع خویشم که در این قحط وفا 
عشق آن لولی سرمست خریدار من است 
طبلـه عـطر گـل و زلف عبیرافشانش 
فیض یک شمه ز بوی خوش عطار من است 
باغـبان همچو نسیمم ز در خویش مران 
کاب گلزار تو از اشک چو گلنار من اسـت 
شربـت قـند و گلاب از لـب یارم فرمود 
نرگـس او که طبیب دل بیمار من اسـت 
آن که در طرز غزل نکته به حافظ آموخـت 
یار شیرین سخن نادره گفتار مـن 
 اسـت

Hafez - Ghazal 47

Whoever had found his way to the tavern’s block
Would have to be insane if on another door knock
Fate never crowned any with drunkenness, except
The one who considered this the highest luck.
Whoever finds his way into the tavern
From the bounty of the wine, temple’s secrets unlock.
He who read the secrets of this wine,
Found the secrets in the dust upon which we walk.
Only seek the obedience of the insane
In our creed, logic and sanity we mock.
My heart asked not for longevity of beauty
Because sadly this is the way of the clock.
From the pain of the fading morning star at dawn
I cried so much that I saw the moon, though Venus my eyes struck.
Who talks about the story of Hafiz and his cup?
Why would the king know where the policemen flock?
Praise the King who considers the nine heavens
A mere crevice in His courtly block.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
April 2, 1999
















- Original -
به کوی میکده هر سالکی که ره دانست 
دری دگر زدن اندیشه تبـه دانـسـت 
زمانـه افـسر رندی نداد جز به کسی 
کـه سرفرازی عالم در این کله دانسـت 
بر آستانـه میخانه هر که یافـت رهی 
ز فیض جام می اسرار خانقه دانـسـت 
هر آن که راز دو عالم ز خـط ساغر خواند 
رموز جام جم از نقش خاک ره دانسـت 
ورای طاعـت دیوانـگان ز ما مطـلـب 
کـه شیخ مذهب ما عاقلی گنه دانست 
دلم ز نرگس ساقی امان نخواست به جان 
چرا که شیوه آن ترک دل سیه دانسـت 
ز جور کوکب طالع سحرگهان چشـمـم 
چنان گریست که ناهید دید و مه دانست 
حدیث حافـظ و ساغر که می‌زند پنـهان 
چه جای محتسب و شحنه پادشه دانست 
بلندمرتـبـه شاهی که نه رواق سپهر 
نـمونـه‌ای ز خـم طاق بارگه 
 دانست

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Hafez - Ghazal 46

Amidst flowers, wine in hand, my lover I embrace
King of the world is my slave on such a day in such a place.
Bring no candles to this, our festive feast, tonight
Full moon is pale beside the light of my lover's face.
Drinking of wine, our creed has sanctified
Yet without you, drinking wine is disgrace.
My ears only hear the song of the harp and the reed
My eyes see your ruby lips, and the cup chase.
Keep perfumes away from our feast tonight
The fragrance of your hair, our feast will grace.
Speak not to me of sweetness of candy and sugar;
Since my lips, sweetness of your lips, did once trace.
Your treasures are hidden in the ruins of my heart
And my path to the tavern has now become sacred space.
Speak not of disgrace; that's my fame and my base
And fame and high place, I despise and debase.
Drunk and disconcerted and demented and deceived
Show me one who's not, within our town and our race.
Fault not the pious one, because he, also, like us,
Is seeking love and grace, in his own way, at his own pace.
Hafiz, wine in hand, always your lover embrace
'Cause flowers and joy fill this festive time and space.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
October 20, 1999




















- Original -
گـل در بر و می در کف و معشوق به کام است 
سلـطان جهانـم بـه چـنین روز غلام است 
گو شـمـع میارید در این جمع که امـشـب 
در مـجـلـس ما ماه رخ دوست تمام اسـت 
در مذهـب ما باده حـلال اسـت ولیکـن 
بی روی تو ای سرو گـل اندام حرام اسـت 
گوشـم هـمـه بر قول نی و نغمه چنگ است 
چشمـم همـه بر لعل لب و گردش جام است 
در مـجـلـس ما عـطر میامیز کـه ما را 
هر لحظه ز گیسوی تو خوش بوی مشام اسـت 
از چاشـنی قـند مـگو هیچ و ز شـکر 
زان رو کـه مرا از لـب شیرین تو کام اسـت 
تا گـنـج غـمـت در دل ویرانه مقیم اسـت 
هـمواره مرا کوی خرابات مـقام اسـت 
از نـنـگ چـه گویی که مرا نام ز ننگ اسـت 
وز نام چـه پرسی که مرا ننـگ ز نام اسـت 
میخواره و سرگـشـتـه و رندیم و نـظرباز 
وان کس که چو ما نیست در این شهر کدام است 
با محـتـسـبـم عیب مـگویید کـه او نیز 
پیوسـتـه چو ما در طلب عیش مدام اسـت 
حافـظ مـنـشین بی می و معشوق زمانی 
کایام گـل و یاسـمـن و عید صیام
  اسـت

Hafez -Ghazal 42

I long to open up my heart
For my heart do my part.
My story was yesterday’s news
From rivals cannot keep apart.
On this holy night stay with me
Till the morning, do not depart.
On a night so dark as this,
My course, how can I chart?
O breath of life, help me tonight
That in the morn I make a start.
In my love for you, I will
My self and ego thwart.
Like Hafiz, being love smart;
I long to master that art.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
April 14, 1999
























- Original -
حال دل با تو گفتنم هوس است 
خـبر دل شنفتنم هوس است 
طـمـع خام بین که قصه فاش 
از رقیبان نهفتنم هوس اسـت 
شب قدری چنین عزیز و شریف 
با تو تا روز خفتنم هوس اسـت 
وه کـه دردانه‌ای چـنین نازک 
در شب تار سفتنم هوس است 
ای صـبا امشبـم مدد فرمای 
که سحرگه شکفتنم هوس است 
از برای شرف بـه نوک مژه 
خاک راه تو رفتنم هوس اسـت 
همـچو حافـظ به رغم مدعیان 
شعر رندانه گفتنم هوس 
است

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Hafez - Ghazal 41

Though the wine is joyous, and the wind, flowers sorts
Harp music and scent of wine, the officer reports.
If you face an adversary and a jug of wine
Choose the wine because, fate cheats and extorts.
Up your ragged, patched sleeves, hide & keep your cup
Like this flask of wine, fate too bleeds and distorts.
With my teary eyes, I cleanse my robe with wine
Self-restraint and piety is what everyone exhorts.
Seek not your joy in the turn of the firmaments
Even my filtered clear red fluid, dregs sports.
This earth and sky is no more than a bleeding sieve
That sifts and sorts kingly crowns and courts.
Hafiz, your poems invaded Fars and Iraqi ports
It is now the turn of Baghdad and Tabrizi forts.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
January 27, 2000
















- Original -
اگر چـه باده فرح بخش و باد گل‌بیز اسـت 
به بانگ چنگ مخور می که محتسب تیز است 
صراحی ای و حریفی گرت به چنـگ افـتد 
بـه عـقـل نوش که ایام فتنه انگیز است 
در آسـتین مرقـع پیالـه پـنـهان کـن 
که همچو چشم صراحی زمانه خون‌ریز است 
بـه آب دیده بـشوییم خرقـه‌ها از می 
کـه موسـم ورع و روزگار پرهیز اسـت 
مـجوی عیش خوش از دور باژگون سپـهر 
که صاف این سر خم جمله دردی آمیز است 
سـپـهر برشده پرویزنیسـت خون افشان 
کـه ریزه‌اش سر کسری و تاج پرویز اسـت 
عراق و فارس گرفتی به شعر خوش حافـظ 
بیا کـه نوبـت بـغداد و وقت تبریز
  اسـت

Hafez - Ghazal 33

The hermit has no need to watch the stage
Since Beloved is at home, no need for pilgrimage.
O soul you have a pact with the Divine,
Then ask how should I my life manage?
O King of goodness, I swear that I’m on fire
Then ask how this beggar should I manage?
I am the master of demands, yet my tongue is still
In your compassion to ask is an outrage.
No need to plot, if our blood you demand,
Our body is yours to take at any age.
Essence of the Beloved is the Holy Grail,
In expressing our needs, we need not engage.
I put up with the hardships of the sea
No need for the sea, once I earned my pearly wage.
No need to deal with fake prophets because
When friends are here, false claims disparage.
O begging lover, when Beloved’s life giving lips
Give their dutiful gifts, begging discourage.
Hafiz desist, for art self-radiates
Needless debate with fake artist and false sage.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
March 25, 2004
















- Original -
خـلوت گزیده را به تماشا چه حاجـت اسـت 
چون کوی دوست هست به صحرا چه حاجت است 
جانا بـه حاجـتی کـه تو را هـسـت با خدا 
کاخر دمی بـپرس که ما را چه حاجـت اسـت 
ای پادشاه حـسـن خدا را بـسوخـتیم 
آخر سؤ‌ال کـن کـه گدا را چه حاجـت اسـت 
ارباب حاجـتیم و زبان سؤ‌ال نیسـت 
در حـضرت کریم تمـنا چـه حاجـت اسـت 
محـتاج قصـه نیسـت گرت قصد خون ماست 
چون رخت از آن توست به یغما چه حاجت اسـت 
جام جـهان نماسـت ضـمیر مـنیر دوسـت 
اظـهار احـتیاج خود آن جا چه حاجت اسـت 
آن شد کـه بار مـنـت مـلاح بردمی 
گوهر چو دست داد به دریا چه حاجـت اسـت 
ای مدعی برو کـه مرا با تو کار نیسـت 
احـباب حاضرند بـه اعدا چه حاجـت اسـت 
ای عاشـق گدا چو لـب روح بـخـش یار 
می‌داندت وظیفـه تـقاضا چـه حاجت اسـت 
حافـظ تو ختـم کـن که هـنر خود عیان شود 
با مدعی نزاع و مـحاکا چـه حاجـت 
 اسـت

Hafez - Ghazal 32

When God designed your features and joined your brows
Paved my way, then trapped me with your gestures & bows
The spruce and I, both rooted to the ground
Fate, like a fine cloth belt, its bind endows.
United the knots of my doing and of the budding heart
The fragrant breeze, when to you it made its vows.
Fate convinced me to be enslaved to thee
Yet nothing moves unless your will allows.
Like an umbilical cord, don't wrap around my heart
It is your flowing lock of hair that I espouse.
You were the desire of another, O breeze of union,
Alas, my heart's hope and fire you douse.
I said because of your infliction I shall leave my house
Smilingly said go ahead Hafiz, with chained hooves and paws.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
January 18, 2000
















- Original -
خدا چو صورت ابروی دلگشای تو بـسـت 
گـشاد کار من اندر کرشمه‌های تو بسـت 
مرا و سرو چمـن را بـه خاک راه نـشاند 
زمانـه تا قصـب نرگـس قبای تو بسـت 
ز کار ما و دل غنـچـه صد گره بـگـشود 
نـسیم گـل چو دل اندر پی هوای تو بست 
مرا بـه بـند تو دوران چرخ راضی کرد 
ولی چه سود که سررشته در رضای تو بست 
چو نافـه بر دل مسکین من گره مفـکـن 
کـه عـهد با سر زلف گره گشای تو بست 
تو خود وصال دگر بودی ای نـسیم وصال 
خـطا نـگر کـه دل امید در وفای تو بست 
ز دست جور تو گفتم ز شهر خواهم رفـت 
به خنده گفت که حافظ برو که پای ت
و  بست

Hafez - Ghazal 26

Disheveled hair, sweaty, smiling, drunken, and
With a torn shirt, singing, the jug in hand
Narcissus loudly laments, on his lips, alas, alas!
Last night at midnight, came and sat right by my bed-stand
Brought his head next to my ears, with a sad song
Said, O my old lover, you are still in dreamland
The lover who drinks this nocturnal brew
Infidel, if not worships the wine's command
Go away O hermit, fault not the drunk
Our Divine gift from the day that God made sea and land
Whatever He poured for us in our cup, we just drank
If it was a cheap wine or heavenly brand
The smile on the cup's face and Beloved's hair strand
Break many who may repent, just as Hafiz falsely planned.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
December 22, 2001
















- Original -
زلف آشفته و خوی کرده و خندان لب و مست 
پیرهن چاک و غزل خوان و صراحی در دست 
نرگسـش عربده جوی و لبش افسوس کنان 
نیم شب دوش به بالین من آمد بنشسـت 
سر فرا گوش مـن آورد بـه آواز حزین 
گفـت ای عاشق دیرینه من خوابت هست 
عاشـقی را کـه چنین باده شبگیر دهـند 
کافر عـشـق بود گر نـشود باده پرسـت 
برو ای زاهد و بر دردکـشان خرده مـگیر 
کـه ندادند جز این تحفه به ما روز السـت 
آن چـه او ریخت بـه پیمانـه ما نوشیدیم 
اگر از خمر بهشت است وگر باده مـسـت 
خـنده جام می و زلـف گره گیر نـگار 
ای بسا توبه که چون توبه حافظ
 ظ بشکسـت

Hafez - Ghazal 22

When you hear the lovers’ words, think them not a mistake
You don’t recognize these words, the error must be your take.
The here and hereafter cannot tame my spirit and soul
Praise God for all the intrigue in my mind that is at stake.
I know not who resides within my heart
Though I am silent, he must shake and quake.
My heart went through the veil, play a song
Hark, my fate, this music I must make.
I paid no heed, worldly affairs I forsake
It is for your beauty, beauty of the world I partake.
My heart is on fire, I am restless and awake
To the tavern to cure my hundred day headache.
My bleeding heart has left its mark in the temple
You have every right to wash my body in a wine lake.
In the abode of the Magi, I am welcome because
The fire that never dies, in my heart is awake.
What was the song the minstrel played?
My life is gone, but breathing, I still fake!
Within me last night, the voice of your love did break
Hafiz’s breast still quivers and shakes for your sake.

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
April 8, 1999















-Original -
چو بشنوی سخن اهل دل مگو که خطاست 
سخن شناس نه‌ای جان من خطا این جاست 
سرم بـه دنیی و عـقـبی فرو نـمی‌آید 
تـبارک الله از این فتنه‌ها که در سر ماست 
در اندرون مـن خسته دل ندانـم کیسـت 
که من خموشم و او در فغان و در غوغاست 
دلـم ز پرده برون شد کـجایی ای مـطرب 
بـنال هان که از این پرده کار ما به نواست 
مرا بـه کار جـهان هرگز الـتـفات نـبود 
رخ تو در نظر من چنین خوشـش آراسـت 
نخـفـتـه‌ام ز خیالی کـه می‌پزد دل من 
خـمار صدشـبـه دارم شرابخانه کجاست 
چـنین کـه صومعـه آلوده شد ز خون دلم 
گرم به باده بشویید حق به دست شماست 
از آن بـه دیر مـغانـم عزیز می‌دارند 
کـه آتشی که نمیرد همیشه در دل ماست 
چـه ساز بود که در پرده می‌زد آن مـطرب 
کـه رفـت عمر و هنوزم دماغ پر ز هواست 
ندای عـشـق تو دیشـب در اندرون دادند 
فـضای سینـه حافـظ هنوز پر ز
  صداست