2017年1月9日 星期一

14th century poet Hafez./ Hafiz

Poet and translator Daniel Ladinsky explains why the gorgeous verses of the Persian poet Hafiz can improve your life.
 BBC Culture 都分享了 1 條連結

The 14th-Century Persian poet Hafiz’s work is not just very beautiful – it is useful too.

Hafiz can teach us how to get the most out of our lives, writes Daniel Ladinsky.;
BBC.COM|由 DANIEL LADINSKY 上傳

 Hafez

1310–1390

Hafez
Persian lyric poet Hafiz (born Khwāja Šamsu d-Dīn Muḥammad Hāfez-e Šīrāzī) grew up in Shiraz. Very little is known about his life, but it is thought that he may have memorized the Qur'an  after hearing his father recite passages. When his father died, he left school to work at a bakery and as a copyist. Hafiz became a poet at the court of Abu Ishak and also taught at a religious college. He is one of the most celebrated of the Persian poets, and his influence can be felt to this day. As the author of numerous ghazals expressing love, spirituality, and protest, he and his work continue to be important to Iranians, and many of his poems are used as proverbs or sayings. Hafiz's tomb is in Musalla Gardens in Shiraz.





9分廣播
Do you celebrate 21st December? In the northern hemisphere it's the winter solstice. In Iran and the Persian speaking world it brings an age-old festival called Yaldā. Families and friends get together to eat, drink, be merry and read poems and proverbs of the 14th century poet Hafez. http://bbc.in/1C8URu8Do you celebrate 21st December? In the northern hemisphere it's the winter solstice. In Iran and the Persian speaking world it brings an age-old festival called Yaldā. Families and friends get together to eat, drink, be merry and read poems and proverbs of the 14th century poet Hafez. http://bbc.in/1C8URu8

Ode 44

BY HAFEZ 
TRANSLATED BY RICHARD LE GALLIENNE 
Last night, as half asleep I dreaming lay,
    Half naked came she in her little shift,
         With tilted glass, and verses on her lips;
Narcissus-eyes all shining for the fray,
         Filled full of frolic to her wine-red lips,
         Warm as a dewy rose, sudden she slips
    Into my bed – just in her little shift.

Said she, half naked, half asleep, half heard,
With a soft sigh betwixt each lazy word,
'Oh my old lover, do you sleep or wake!'
And instant I sat upright for her sake,
And drank whatever wine she poured for me –   
Wine of the tavern, or vintage it might be
Of Heaven's own vine: he surely were a churl
Who refused wine poured out by such a girl,
A double traitor he to wine and love.
Go to, thou puritan! the gods above
Ordained this wine for us, but not for thee;
Drunkards we are by a divine decree,
Yea, by the special privilege of heaven
Foredoomed to drink and foreordained forgiven.   

Ah! HAFIZ, you are not the only man
    Who promised penitence and broke down after;
For who can keep so hard a promise, man,   
    With wine and woman brimming o'er with laughter!
O knotted locks, filled like a flower with scent,
How have you ravished this poor penitent!

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