Mai-khaana-e-haafiz

For every great poet, dissatisfaction with the present and a sense of unfulfillment with contemporary life ultimately transforms into a yearning for a more perfect existence. If the poet is also a philosopher—meaning their intellect governs their emotions—they often lay the foundation for a systematic, coherent, and well-organized philosophy of life. This becomes the poet’s ideal, utopian paradise. A shining example of this in Urdu literature is Iqbal, whose dissatisfaction with the present culminates in the creation of a formal, philosophical system. Conversely, if a poet is not a philosopher—or, in other words, if their emotions and feelings overpower their intellect—this discontent does not crystallize into a logical system. Instead, it becomes an elegy mourning life’s contradictions, injustices, helplessness, and inherent incompleteness. Yet, even within this lament, one can catch glimpses of their intellectual inclinations and fragmented visions of a more perfect life. If we wish, we can piece together these scattered thoughts to catch a glimpse of their ideal paradise. In Urdu poetry, Mir Taqi Mir exemplifies this. Unlike Iqbal, Mir does not offer an ideal system weighed down by rules or structured by philosophical inquiry. However, wherever his poetry reflects the incompleteness of life, it simultaneously—albeit indirectly—reveals a profound, affirmative yearning for a better system of values.

Hafiz Shirazi, however, is the poet of wine and the pleasures of the present moment. To expect him to present an ideal system of life would be unfair. He is not a thinker in the same sense that we consider Ghalib and Iqbal to be thinkers. He is no philosopher; first and foremost, he is purely a poet. His thought lacks complexity, and its philosophical depth is relatively shallow. Instead, he believes in a moderate intensity of emotion and its artistic expression. His intellectual framework is simple, straightforward, easily comprehensible, and accessible to the common man. Hafiz, too, is dissatisfied with contemporary life. But because he is the poet of wine and mysticism, he has poured his thoughts, emotions, and feelings into the molds of the goblet and the vine. Consequently, rather than constructing an ideal philosophical system, his work brings to life the contours of an ideal city of joy or a utopian gathering of revelry. The purpose of this essay is to take a stroll through Hafiz’s city of joy.

A defining characteristic of Hafiz’s poetry is his continuous celebration of rindi (free-spirited revelry), wine, and the beloved. However, a deep study of his work reveals a thought-provoking reality: he rarely mentions wine without also mentioning the beloved. In his poetry, wine and the beloved are practically inseparable. It is possible that Hafiz cultivated this trait intentionally. In the realm of mysticism and spiritual gnosis, if wine represents the spiritual path and divine knowledge, it is impossible to attain it without a perfect spiritual master, a true guide, or divine will. For the journey of spiritual enlightenment, the presence of a wise guide is a fundamental prerequisite of Sufism. To represent this guide, the symbols of the Pir-e-Mughan (the tavern master), the beloved, or the Saqi (the cupbearer) are employed. Whatever the underlying reason, one cannot deny that this is a beautiful aspect of Hafiz’s poetry, and it was likely crafted with deliberate intent. This assumption is supported by such a vast number of verses in the Diwan-e-Hafiz that it borders on absolute certainty: Hafiz intentionally and consistently paired the wine with the idol (the beloved). This self-imposed constraint—this beautiful blending of wine and the beloved—reflects Hafiz’s belief that neither wine nor the beloved alone can bring true ecstasy and joy. A true gathering of revelry can only be adorned through the union of the two:

[Zahid bi-rau ki tali' agar tali'-i man ast

Jamam ba-dast bashad o zulf-i nigar ham]

(Go away, ascetic, for if my destiny remains true to me,

I shall have a goblet in one hand and the beloved's hair in the other.)

[Ma aib-i kas ba-rindi o masti nami kunim

La'l-i butan khush ast o may-i khushgawar ham]

(We do not fault anyone for their revelry and intoxication;

The ruby lips of idols are sweet, and so is the pleasant wine.)

[Ay dil basharati diham-at muhtasib namand

Wa az may jahan pur ast o but-i may-gusar ham]

(O heart, let me give you glad tidings: the moral police are no more,

And the world is full of wine, as well as wine-drinking idols.)

I have quoted these consecutive verses from a single ghazal. Notice how Hafiz has paired the wine and the idol in every single couplet. For him, wine alone holds no meaning. It is only when the beloved is combined with the wine that its true essence is realized.

[Man dostdar-i ruy-i khush o muy-i dilkasham

Dar hawas-i chashm-i mast o may-i saf-i bi-ghasham]

(I am a lover of a beautiful face and captivating hair;

I desire intoxicated eyes and pure, unadulterated wine.)

[Man tark-i ishq-bazi o saghar nami kunam

Sad bar tauba kardam o digar nami kunam]

(I will not abandon the play of love nor the goblet;

I have repented a hundred times, and I shall not do so again.)

[Jahan-i fani o baqi nisar-i shahid o saqi

Ki sultani-yi aalam ra tufail-i ishq mi-binam]

(May both the mortal and eternal worlds be sacrificed for the beloved and the cupbearer,

For I see the sovereignty of the world as entirely dependent on love.)

One consequence of this ecstatic approach is that, in Hafiz’s poetry, the cupbearer (Saqi) and the beloved merge into a single entity. By treating the cupbearer as the beloved, or the beloved as the cupbearer, he establishes an ideal gathering of revelry—a special private sanctuary. In the following verses, you will notice that the cupbearer and the beloved are not two distinct figures; rather, Hafiz has combined the attributes of both into a single form:

[Tauba kardam ki na-bosam lab-i saqi o kunun

Mi-gazam lab ki chira gosh ba nadan kardam]

(I repented, vowing never to kiss the cupbearer's lips, and now

I bite my own lips in regret, wondering why I listened to fools.)

[Labat shakar ba mastan dad o chashmat may ba may-khwaran

Manam k-az ghayat-i hirman na ba anam na ba inam]

(Your lips offered sweetness to the intoxicated, and your eyes offered wine to the drinkers;

I am the one who, out of extreme deprivation, has neither this nor that.)

[Sharab-i talkh-i sufi-soz bunyadam bakhwahad burd

Labam bar lab nih ay saqi o bustan jan-i shirin-am]

(The bitter, Sufi-burning wine will destroy my very foundation;

Place your lips upon mine, O cupbearer, and take my sweet life.)

[Man az chashm-i khush-i saqi kharab uftada-am lekin

Balayi k-az habib amad hazar-ash marhaba guftam]

(I have fallen into ruin because of the cupbearer's beautiful eyes, yet

Whatever affliction comes from the beloved, I welcome it a thousand times.)

[Khali mabad kakh-i jalalat zi sarwaran

W-az saqiyan-i sarv-qad-i gul-izar ham]

(May the palace of your glory never be devoid of leaders,

Nor of cypress-statured, rose-cheeked cupbearers.)

[Rah-i khalwatgah-i khasam binuma ta pas az in

May khuram ba tu o digar gham-i dunya na-khuram]

(Show me the way to your special private sanctuary, so that from now on,

I may drink wine with you and no longer suffer the sorrows of the world.)

I have selected the above verses, which illustrate the blending of wine and the beloved, from the radif (rhyming scheme) of the letter Meem after only a cursory reading. One can only imagine how high the number of such verses would be if the entire Diwan were studied specifically for this purpose. Let us briefly hear Hafiz’s own verdict on the matter:

[Dar mazhab-i ma bada halal ast wa-lekin

Bi ruy-i tu ay sarv-i gul-andam haram ast]

(In our religion, wine is permissible, but

Without your face, O cypress-statured, rose-bodied one, it is forbidden.)

These are the essential elements of Hafiz’s ideal gathering of revelry, without which he cannot even conceive of pleasure and joy. Beyond these, there are secondary elements whose importance is also well-established in his poetry, and which he loves to mention. By piecing together the sketches of this enviable, utopian gathering scattered throughout his verses, we can paint a complete picture. These elements are as follows:

Peace and tranquility; leisure and free time; a private sanctuary far from the noise and chaos of the world; melody (the third crucial pillar alongside wine and the beloved); flowing water (the stream of Ruknabad); a pleasant breeze (sometimes called Saba, the morning breeze, and sometimes Bad-e-Nasim, the gentle zephyr); a companion, friend, cupbearer, beloved, or nightingale; the season of spring; a grove of trees; greenery and flowers; a book (or a collection of ghazals); dance; fragrance, and so on.

The deep connection between these elements and wine requires no explanation. Poets in general, and Hafiz in particular, have been acutely aware that a harmonious environment enhances pleasure, whereas a discordant or contradictory one diminishes joy and intoxication. If a neighbor's wife passes away and the piercing sounds of wailing and lamentation reach your ears, you cannot host a gathering of music and dance in your own home. Similarly, if you sing a soul-refreshing song of the monsoon in the scorching heat of a desert, its impact is reduced by half. Hafiz’s own environment was not conducive to such revelry. Therefore, on a smaller scale, he molded his immediate surroundings to his liking, transforming them into a sanctuary of pleasure. Fresh and vibrant greenery, fragrant flowers, a gently flowing stream, a tranquil and dimly lit grove of trees, a playful morning breeze, a springtime melody floating on the air, a flask of red wine, a radiant beloved, and leisure, a book, and a garden corner—this is the ideal life Hafiz desires. This is his imaginary paradise. Although this concept of joy and Hafiz’s gathering of pleasure is static rather than dynamic, there is no doubt about its immense appeal. This vision of life may lack action; it may lack the struggle for a lasting legacy or eternal life. It may offer no room for national or societal reconstruction. Yet, it possesses an undeniable magnetism, charm, and allure. It is filled with joy, intoxication, a yearning to seize the present moment, and a desire to grasp the flowing tresses of time. It embodies a profound indifference toward false honor and worldly status, and a complete detachment from wealth acquired through flattery and servitude. It rejects the degrading facade of subservience. It avoids inflicting pain and suffering on others to achieve one's own goals. This atmosphere may indeed facilitate escapism, but it is undeniably melodious. Such a beautiful retreat from life is not something just anyone can achieve.

Hafiz is deeply fond of a melodious atmosphere. His own verses seem to overflow with lyricism and musicality. Consequently, music and melody play a vital role in his gatherings of pleasure.

Dar-in zamana rafiq-e ke khali az khalal ast

Surahi-e may-e naab o safina-e ghazal ast

[In this age, the only companion free from flaw

Is a flask of pure wine and a book of ghazals.]

May khur ba-baang-e chang o makhur ghussa dar kase

Gooyad tura ke bada makhur, goo huwal ghafoor

[Drink wine to the sound of the harp and hold no anger toward anyone;

If someone tells you not to drink, tell them that He is the All-Forgiving.]

Dar kunj-e dimagham matalab jaay-e nasihat

K-in hujra pur az zamzama-e chang o rubab ast

[Do not seek a place for advice in the corner of my mind,

For this chamber is filled with the melodies of the harp and lute.]

Gosh-e hama bar qaul-e nay o naghma-e chang ast

Chashm-e hama bar laal-e lab o gardish-e jaam ast

[Everyone's ear is tuned to the voice of the reed and the song of the harp,

Everyone's eye is fixed on ruby lips and the passing of the cup.]

In the final couplet, all three fundamental elements of this gathering of pleasure are brought together: the melody of the reed, the ruby lips of the beloved, and the circulation of the wine cup. In the verses that follow, alongside the wine and the beloved, a third element is always introduced—be it spring, a book, a festival, dance, or poetry:

Do yaar-e zirak o az bada-e kuhan do mann

Faraghat-e o kitab-e o gosha-e chaman-e

[Two clever friends and two measures of vintage wine,

Leisure, a book, and a corner of the garden.]

Khosh hawa-e ast farah-bakhsh khudaya bifrest

Nazanin-e ke ba-ruyash may-e gulgun noshim

[The breeze is pleasant and exhilarating; O God, send

A delicate beauty, so we may drink rose-colored wine while gazing at her face.]

Az chaar chiz maguzar gar ziraki o aaqil

Amn o sharab-e bighash, ma'shuq o jaay-e khaali

[Do not forsake four things if you are clever and wise:

Security, pure wine, a beloved, and a secluded place.]

Bideh saqi may-e baqi ke dar jannat na-khwahi yaaft

Kinar-e aab-e Ruknabad o gulgasht-e Musalla ra

[Give me, O Cupbearer, the remaining wine, for in Paradise you will not find

The banks of the Ruknabad stream and the rose gardens of Musalla.]

Khana be-tashwish o saqi yaar o mutrib-e bazla-go

Mausam-e aish ast o daur-e saghar o ahd-e shabab

[A home free of worry, the beloved as cupbearer, and a witty musician;

It is the season of joy, the passing of the goblet, and the prime of youth.]

Binoosh jaam-e sabuhi ba-nala-e daf o chang

Biboos ghabghab-e saqi ba-naghma-e nay o ood

[Drink the morning cup to the lament of the tambourine and harp,

Kiss the cupbearer's chin to the melody of the reed and lute.]

Hafiz manishin be-may o ma'shuq zamane

K-ayyam-e gul o yasaman o eid-e siyam ast!

[O Hafiz, do not sit without wine and the beloved for even a moment,

For it is the season of the rose and jasmine, and the festival ending the fast!]

Raqs bar she'r-e tar o nala-e nay khosh bashad

Khasa raqse ke dar o dast-e nigare girand

[Dancing to fresh poetry and the lament of the reed is delightful,

Especially a dance where one holds the hand of a beauty.]

It is quite surprising that moonlight is rarely mentioned in Hafiz’s poetry, even though wine shares a profound connection with moonlit nights. However, moonlight is, after all, a form of illumination. It is a light under which the objects of the external world begin to reveal their true forms. It tears away the veils of misunderstanding, wishful thinking, uncertainty, and self-deception, forcing harsh realities to cast off their masks. Therefore, Hafiz—who is already disillusioned with the external world and has fled from it to seek refuge in the tavern—fears even the moonlit night. He desires a haze—a dusky, twilight atmosphere where distinctions blur. He seeks a space where the magic of illusions can roam free, an atmosphere where a wine vat can be imagined as a heavenly palace and the cupbearer as a celestial maiden. He wants a place where, holding a goblet, he can feel as though he is drinking the very blood of the cruel turning of time. A place where he can stagger with a cup in hand and tear apart the hypocrisy of the moral censor. He wishes to see the reflection of his beloved’s face in his cup, without a single ray of light intruding to tell him that this is merely a creation of his own imagination, and that the goblet holds nothing but red wine. In this dim light, he can envision himself as a king, claiming equality with Caesars and Emperors. And if, by some happy coincidence, a beautiful Turk of Shiraz were to pass by, he could offer the great cities of Samarkand and Bukhara for the dark mole on her cheek—cities that Hafiz had never seen even in his dreams, whose true worth he could not fathom. These were cities that his poetry might one day conquer, but which he himself could not fully comprehend. After all, it was precisely to escape the complex worldly problems of places like Samarkand and Bukhara that Hafiz had sought refuge in the tavern. Brought into the light, these harsh realities would become a torment to his soul. Consequently, Hafiz banished the glaring sun and the illuminating moonlight from his sanctuary of pleasure.

Even when he mentions the morning, it is not the bright, true dawn; his dawn is muted and dusky. It is veiled in twilight. In his dawn, objects and actions do not cast off their robes of darkness to reveal themselves starkly. The boundaries of things remain undefined. Mental illusions, wishful thinking, and self-deception refuse to surrender their ground even in his morning light. He does not desire full wakefulness. Yet, a state of complete slumber is also beyond his reach, as his sleep is frequently shattered by the grim and bitter memories of the outside world. Instead, he is enamored with a dreamlike state, a sleep-laden atmosphere. Suspended in the liminal space between dreaming and waking, he constructs a magical palace of joy and intoxication, and wanders freely within it.

Sahar karishma-e waslash ba-khwab mididam

Zihe maratib-e khwab-e ke beh zi-bidari ast

[At dawn, I saw the miracle of union with her in a dream;

Oh, the glory of a dream that is better than wakefulness!]

Khalwat-e khaas ast o jaay-e amn o nuzhatgah-e uns

In ke mi-binam ba-bidari ast ya rab ya ba-khwab

[It is a private retreat, a place of safety, and a promenade of intimacy;

O Lord, is what I am seeing in wakefulness or in a dream?]

Ghanimat-e shumar ay sham' wasl-e parwana

Ke in mu'amala ta subh-dam na-khwahad mand

[O candle, consider your union with the moth a blessing,

For this affair will not last until the break of dawn.]

Wasl-e ou juz ba-khwab natwan did

Daru-e k-ost asl-e khwab biyar

[Union with her cannot be seen except in a dream;

Bring me the remedy that is the essence of sleep.]

When the darkness of the night fades, he seeks refuge in the dark shadows of his beloved’s tresses:

Aan parishani-e shabha-e daraz o gham-e dil

Hama dar saya-e gesu-e nigar aakhir shud

[That distress of long nights and the sorrow of the heart,

All came to an end in the shadow of the beloved's locks.]

Had it not been for the dark tresses falling across the beloved’s face, he might not have been able to endure even the radiance of her glowing countenance, for her luminous face evokes the brilliance of the sun and the moon. This is why he almost always mentions her tresses and her face together. He can only bear to look at the sun when it is veiled behind a cloud:

Mah-e khurshid-numayash ba-pas-e parda-e zulf

Aftab-e ast ke dar pesh sahab-e darad

[Her sun-like face behind the veil of her tresses

Is like a sun that holds a cloud before it.]

Sawaad-e zulf-e to tafsir-e Ja'il-uz-Zulumat

Biyaz-e ruy-e to tibyan-e Khaliq-ul-Asbah

[The blackness of your tresses is the exegesis of He who makes the darkness,

The whiteness of your face is the manifestation of The Creator of the dawn.]

While references to the dawn are abundant in his work, shadows and a semi-dark, twilight haze form the overarching impression of his poetry. In other words, this is the dominant and defining atmosphere of the Divan-e-Hafiz.

Hafiz’s paradise is an ideal, imaginary realm, not a practical or tangible one. In this mortal world of creation and decay, such a paradise has no place. This philosophy of life could never be adopted in its absolute entirety. Even to attain such a paradise, one must traverse the thorny paths of existence and collide with mountains of hardship. Hafiz understood that he lived in a turbulent era. If we look closely, his poetry is essentially an irregular and loosely connected Shahr Ashob (a poetic lament for a ruined city), scattered with references to the political, economic, and social disparities of contemporary life. A sensitive artist observes this state of affairs; he reflects, agonizes, grieves, and at times, feels as though he is hanging from a cross.

Yari andar kas nami beenim yaran ra che shud

Dosti ke aakhir aamad dostdaran ra che shud

[I see no friendship in anyone; what has happened to the friends?

When did friendship come to an end; what has happened to the lovers?]

Sad hazaran gul shaguft o bang-e-murghey bar nakhast

Andaleeban ra che pesh aamad, hazaran ra che shud

[A hundred thousand flowers bloomed, yet no bird sang

What befell the nightingales; what has happened to the thousands of birds?]

Laaley az kaan-e-muruwwat bar nayamad saalha st

Tabish-e-khursheed o saee-e-abr o baran ra che shud

[For years, no ruby has been mined from the quarry of human kindness

What has happened to the sun's radiance and the efforts of the clouds and rain?]

Zohra sazi khush nami saaz o gar oodash basokht

Kas nadarad zauq-e-masti maigusaran ra che shud

[Venus no longer plays a sweet tune, as if her lute has burned

No one has the taste for intoxication; what has happened to the wine-drinkers?]

Kas nami goyad ke yaarey daasht haq-e-dosti

Haq shanasan ra che haal uftad, yaran ra che shud

[No one says that a friend upheld the rights of friendship

What has befallen the seekers of truth; what has happened to the friends?]

Shahryaran bood o jaye mezbanan een diyar

Mehrbani ke sar aamad shahryaran ra che shud

[This land was once the abode of kings and generous hosts

When did kindness end; what has happened to the kings?]

Go ke taufeeq o karamat darmiyan afganda and

Kas ba maidan ro nami aarad sawaran ra che shud

[The ball of grace and miracles has been thrown into the field

Yet no one steps into the arena; what has happened to the horsemen?]

Hafiz asrar-e-ilahi kas namidan khamosh

Az ke mi pursi ke daur-e-rozgaran ra che shud

[Hafiz, no one knows the divine secrets, remain silent

Whom do you ask about what has happened to the turning of the times?]

This ghazal serves as the Shahr Ashob of its era—or, if the coined term is not too jarring, an Ahd Ashob (a lament for an entire age). It is a deeply moving elegy for established human values, moral principles, friendship, the vibrancy and bustle of life, human decency, the recognition of truth, and righteous action. Whenever such circumstances have arisen in the literary history of any nation, poets have taken up their pens to document them, fulfilling their duty to give voice to a weeping humanity.

In this ghazal, Hafiz makes no apparent attempt to trace the root causes of this decline. He observes the ruin and wrings his hands in despair, but he does not take the trouble to delve deeper and ask why it happened. Whose hands have oppressed this downtrodden humanity? Who are the individuals and institutions stripping life of its beauty and taking an axe to the roots of these noble values? As far as I can understand, Hafiz was certainly aware of these realities to some extent. However, he shrank from analyzing these chains of cause and effect like a philosopher. Such thoughts seemed to send a shiver down his spine, prompting him to retreat into his shell, as he says: You are a beggar in seclusion, O Hafiz, so remain silent. Had Hafiz possessed even a fraction of practical courage or a hint of political audacity, the entire tradition of Urdu and Persian poetry might have evolved quite differently. But this was not to be, for Hafiz did not live in an era of democratic values. He was forced to seek refuge in mysticism and the philosophy of quiet submission. Yet, when it comes to giving voice to a battered humanity, Hafiz’s voice still resonates more powerfully than that of most socially conscious poets today. Centuries later, when Abdul Majeed Salik took up his pen to address a similar state of affairs, it took the following form:

Ham-nafso ujar gaeen mehr-o-wafa ki bastiyan

Pooch rahay hain ahl-e-dil mehr-o-wafa ko kya hua

[O companions, the settlements of love and loyalty have been ruined

The people of the heart are asking, what has happened to love and loyalty?]

Ab nahi jannat-e-masham koocha-e-yaar ki shameem

Nighat-e-zulf kya hui, baad-e-saba ko kya hua?

[The fragrance of the beloved's street no longer perfumes the senses

What became of the scent of those tresses; what has happened to the morning breeze?]

Dasht-e-junoon mein ho gayi manzil-e-yaar be-suragh

Qafila kis taraf gaya, bang-e-dara ko kya hua?

[In the desert of madness, the beloved's destination has vanished without a trace

Which way did the caravan go; what has happened to the caravan bell?]

Nala-e-shab hai na-rasa, aah-e-sahar hai be-asar

Mera Khuda kahan gaya, mere Khuda ko kya hua?

[The midnight lament goes unheard, the morning sigh is ineffective

Where has my God gone; what has happened to my God?]

If there was any evolution during the long epoch from Hafiz to Salik, it is simply this: out of profound reverence, Hafiz remained silent before God. He could never bring himself to hold God responsible for the world's injustices. His conviction was that, out of respect, one should confess even to sins one has not committed, rather than cast blame upon that Peerless Beloved.

Gunah garcha na bood ikhtiyar-e-ma Hafiz

Tu dar tareeq-e-adab kosh o go gunah-e-man ast

[Although sin was not within our control, O Hafiz

Strive on the path of reverence and say, The sin is mine.]

But times have changed today. That seal of silence no longer binds our tongues. Mechanical inventions, material progress, political ideologies, freedom of expression, and a growing inclination toward atheism have breached the boundaries of reverence—boundaries that Hafiz guarded even more fiercely than the Quran preserved within his impassioned heart. Today, it has become commonplace to hear declarations like, Either my own collar must be torn, or the hem of God's garment, and This is miserliness, not divine providence. Consequently, while Salik addressed the exact same predicament as Hafiz, he shattered Hafiz’s quietistic stance of You are a beggar in seclusion, O Hafiz, so remain silent, transforming it into this bold cry:

Mera Khuda kahan gaya, mere Khuda ko kya hua

[Where has my God gone; what has happened to my God?]

Hafiz saw the world as being full of mischief and evil. He observed the unjust distribution of wealth and social inequities, agonized over the moral decay, and ultimately realized that he lacked the power to change these circumstances. It was at this juncture that Hafiz resorted to escapism and retreat.

Een che shor ast ke dar daur-e-qamar mi beenim

Hama aafaq pur az fitna o shar mi beenim

[What is this tumult I see in the turning of the moon?

I see the entire horizon full of mischief and evil.]

Har kasi roz-e-behi mi talabad az ayyam

Illat aan ast ke har roz batar mi beenim

[Everyone seeks better days from the times

The tragedy is that I see every day growing worse.]

Ablahan ra hama sharbat ze gulab o qand ast

Qoot-e-dana hama az khoon-e-jigar mi beenim

[Fools drink syrups of rose and sugar

While I see the wise nourished only by the blood of their own hearts.]

Asp-e-tazi shuda majrooh ba zer-e-palan

Tauq-e-zareen hama dar gardan-e-khar mi beenim

[The Arabian steed is wounded beneath the pack-saddle

While I see golden collars around the necks of donkeys.]

Dukhtaran ra hama jang ast o jadal ba madar

Pisaran ra hama bad-khwah-e-pidar mi beenim

[Daughters are constantly at war and arguing with their mothers

And I see sons wishing ill upon their fathers.]

Hech rahmey na bradar ba bradar darad

Hech shafqat na pidar ra ba pisar mi beenim

[No brother has any mercy for his brother

Nor do I see any fatherly affection for the son.]

Pand-e-Hafiz bishno khwaja boro neki kun

Ke man een pand beh az durr-e-guhar mi beenim

[Listen to Hafiz's advice, O master, go and do good

For I see this counsel as better than pearls and jewels.]

Go and do good is neither a revolutionary slogan nor an attempt at social reform. It is merely an effort to hold fast to one's values and protect one's faith from wavering. Hafiz gathers his robes around him, half-heartedly consoling himself in the face of these bitter realities. An undercurrent of fear runs between the lines of this ghazal, as if Hafiz dreads that his breaking point is near. Turning the tide of these demoralizing circumstances and this current of societal decay was an incredibly difficult task in an era where life itself was so precarious. Furthermore, Hafiz was inherently peace-loving; the path of resistance was fraught with endless turmoil and obstacles at every step, with no guarantee of success. Consequently, he sought refuge in his own assembly of joy, taking with him those human values that could still be preserved there. Kam-azaari (causing no harm to others) is the supreme law of his joyous assembly. Breaking someone's heart is a crime so grave that even the Pir-e-Mughan (the wise tavern master) cannot pardon it. Fault-finding, nitpicking, hypocrisy, deceit, and the peddling of false piety have no place in his ideal world. The moral values that Hafiz saw battered and abandoned in the external world, he gently gathered up and brought into the tavern. The ideal conditions he could not manifest in society, he sought to establish as the governing constitution of his tavern.

Hafiza may khor o rindi kun o khush baash waley

Daam-e-tazweer makun chun deegaran Quran ra

[O Hafiz, drink wine, live as a libertine, and be happy, but

Do not make the Quran a snare of deception like others do.]

Bada noshi ke daro hech riyaye na bood

Behtar az zohd faroshi ke daro roo-e-riya st

[Drinking wine in which there is no hypocrisy

Is better than peddling piety which is entirely a facade.]

Mabash dar paye azaar o har che khwahi kun

Ke dar tareeqat-e-ma ghair az een gunahey neest

[Do not seek to harm others, and do whatever else you wish

For in our spiritual path, there is no sin other than this.]

Aib-e-rindan makun ae zahid-e-pakeeza sirisht

Keh gunah-e-digare bar tu nakhwahand nawisht

[O pure-natured ascetic, do not find fault with the drunkards

For the sins of others will not be written in your name.]

Outside the tavern, ascetics and jurists had wielded the whip of excommunication (takfir) so relentlessly that the poor, ordinary Muslim had completely lost hope of salvation. In his ideal world, Hafiz popularized the concept of God's boundless mercy.

Biyar badah bukhor z-ankeh pir-e-maikadah dosh

Basey hadith z-afo-e-rahim o rahman guft

[Bring wine and drink, for last night the master of the tavern

Spoke at length of the forgiveness of the Merciful and Compassionate.]

Az namah-e-siyah na tarsam keh roz-e-hashr

Ba-faiz-e-lutf-e-oo sad azin namah tay kunam

[I do not fear my blackened book of deeds, for on the Day of Judgment

By the grace of His bounty, I shall cross out a hundred such books.]

Kamtar koh kam ast az kamar-e-moo in ja

Na-umeed az dar-e-rahmat masho ae badah parast

[Here, a mountain of sin is lighter than a strand of hair

Do not despair of the door of mercy, O worshipper of wine.]

Outside the tavern, religious elders and ascetics were dreaming of conquering God through the sheer force of their worship. Hafiz strictly forbade this arrogance of piety within his tavern.

Bisoz in khirqah-e-taqwa cho Hafiz

[Burn this cloak of piety, like Hafiz.]

Yake az aql mi lafad yake taamaat mi bafad

Biya k-in dawari ha ra ba-pesh-e-dadgar andazim

[One boasts of intellect, another weaves absurd tales

Come, let us take these disputes before the Just Judge.]

Bar amal takya makun khwaja keh dar roz-e-awwal

Tu cheh dani qalam-e-sun'a ba-namat cheh nawisht

[Do not rely on your deeds, O master, for on the very first day

What do you know of what the Pen of Creation wrote in your name?]

Ae kabk-e-khosh khiram keh khosh mirawi ba-naz

Ghurrah masho keh gurbah-e-zahid namaz kard

[O gracefully walking partridge, strutting with such pride

Do not be deceived just because the ascetic's cat has offered prayers.]

In an ideal world like the tavern, where dozens of freedoms were enjoyed, these few harmless restrictions made no difference. These rules and regulations brought order to his gathering of joy. Adhering to them did not diminish his pleasure and delight. In this way, his tavern simultaneously became a place of revelry and a school of ethics—just as a playground serves as a place of recreation for students while also acting as an open classroom for teaching discipline and obedience.

For Hafiz, the rules of drinking were not as rigidly codified as they were for Khayyam of Nishapur. Khayyam himself was quite unprincipled when it came to his own drinking, yet he established a strict code of conduct for the patrons of his tavern: drink this much, drink at this time, drink in this manner.

Gar badah khori tu ba-khirad mandan khor

Ba sanam-e-sadah rukh-e-khandan khor

Bisyar makhor, dard makun, fash masaz

Andak khor o gah gah khor o pinhan khor

[If you drink wine, drink it with the wise

Drink it with a simple, smiling beauty

Do not drink too much, do not cause trouble, do not make it public

Drink a little, drink occasionally, and drink in secret.]

— Khayyam

However, the etiquette and ethics of Hafiz's tavern are of a different nature. Here, no such restrictions are placed on this peerless blessing. Drink, drink as much as your heart desires. There is no harm in drinking beyond your capacity. In fact, as long as your senses remain intact, drinking is practically an obligation.

Garchah mastam sir-e-char jam-e-digar

Ta ba-kulli shawam kharab biyar

[Though I am drunk, bring me four more cups

Bring them until I am completely ruined.]

Cho naqsh-e-gham z-door ba-bini sharab khwah

Tashkhis kardah aim o mudawa muqarrar ast

[When you see the shadow of sorrow from afar, call for wine

We have made the diagnosis, and the cure is prescribed.]

Hafiz manishin be-may o mashooq zamane

[Hafiz, do not sit without wine and a beloved for even a moment.]

For Hafiz, wine is the cure for the pain of love, the romance of youth and old age, a tether for the rebellious intellect, and a means of achieving a state of self-forgetfulness to soothe the sorrows of the heart. Therefore, he is not in favor of placing any restrictions on wine. For him, other moral boundaries are sufficient, and wine serves as a form of compensation for them all.

Hafiz's utmost effort is to ensure that censorious discussions about the secrets of the universe do not intrude upon his gatherings of pleasure.

Hadith az mutrib o may go o raz-e-dahr kamtar jo

Keh kas nakshud o nakshayad ba-hikmat in mu'amma ra

[Speak of the musician and wine, and seek less the secret of the universe

For no one has solved, nor will anyone ever solve, this riddle through philosophy.]

Hafiz asrar-e-ilahi kas namidanad khamosh

[Hafiz, no one knows the divine secrets; remain silent.]

This silence is, in reality, an attempt at detachment.

In Hans Christian Andersen's story The Nightingale, there is a character of a frail, dying emperor. When Death itself comes to sit upon his chest, and his past misdeeds begin to peer at him from behind the velvet curtains in the form of hideous, grotesque shadows, each shadow mocks him and asks, Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Eventually, he loses his senses and screams at his attendants, Music, music! Beat the great Chinese drum! So that I may not hear the ear-splitting words of these wretched spirits. Similarly, when the ghosts of life's problems and existential realities emerge from a corner into the dimly lit atmosphere of Hafiz's gathering of joy, Hafiz cannot endure the dread for long. He closes his eyes and begins to cry out: Wine... bring wine... music... play the instruments... sing a ghazal... in a slightly higher pitch.

Saqi ba-hosh bash keh gham dar kamin-e-mast

Mutrib nigahdar hamin rah keh mizani

[O cupbearer, be alert, for sorrow lies in ambush for us

O musician, keep playing the very tune you are playing.]

Saqiya barkhez o dar deh jam ra

Khak bar sar kun gham-e-ayyam ra

[O cupbearer, arise and pass the cup

Throw dust upon the head of the sorrows of these days.]

Cho naqsh-e-gham z-door ba-bini sharab khwah

Tashkhis kardah am o mudawa muqarrar ast

[When you see the shadow of sorrow from afar, call for wine

I have made the diagnosis, and the cure is prescribed.]

Dar an ghawgha keh kas kas ra na pursad

Man az pir-e-mughan sunnat paziram

[In that chaos where no one asks after anyone else

I shall follow the tradition of the master of the tavern.]

Khuda ra ae nasihat-gar hadith az mutrib o may go

Keh naqshe dar khayal-e-ma azin behtar nami gardad

[For God's sake, O advisor, speak of the musician and wine

For no image in our imagination is better than this.]

Fitnah mi barad in taq-e-muqarnas barkhez

Keh ba-maykhana panah az hamah aafat barem

[Calamity rains down from this vaulted sky; arise

So that we may take refuge from all disasters in the tavern.]

Saqiya majlis-e-uns ast ghazal khwan o surod

Chand goyi keh chunin ast o chunan khwahad bood

[O cupbearer, this is a gathering of intimacy; sing a ghazal and a melody

How long will you say that it is like this, and it will be like that?]

He becomes terrified of conversations about the secrets of the universe. He shies away from any philosophical discourse that might spoil his mood. In Hafiz's gathering of pleasure, the strictures and constraints of Eastern morality are somewhat loosened. Consequently, kissing and embracing become a constant pursuit in his assembly. At such moments, Hafiz becomes even more playful and audacious than Ghalib. The state of the elderly Hafiz at this point mirrors the sentiment: Leave the goblet and the flask before me for now.

Az bahr-e-bosah-e-labash jan hami daham

Inam nami sitanad o anam nami dahad

[I offer my life in exchange for a kiss from her lips

She neither takes the former nor gives the latter.]

Seh bosah k-az do labat kardah-e-wazifah-e-man

Agar ada na kuni wam-dar-e-man bashi

[The three kisses from your two lips that you made my daily allowance

If you do not pay them, you will remain in my debt.]

Ba-labah guftamash ae mah-rukh cheh bashad agar

Ba-bosah-e-z-tu dil-e-khastah biyasayad!

[I pleaded with her, O moon-faced one, what would it matter if

With a kiss from you, this broken heart finds peace!]

Ba-khandah guft keh Hafiz Khuda ra mapasand

Keh bosah-e-tu rukh-e-mah ra biyalayad

[She said with a laugh, Hafiz, for God's sake, do not wish

That your kiss should stain the face of the moon.]

This might startle the general readers of Hafiz, but the truth is that he prefers sensory pleasures over intellectual ones.

Qand amekhtah ba-gul na ilaj-e-dil-e-mast

Bosah-e-chand biyamiz ba-dushnam-e-chand

[Sugar mixed with rosewater is not the cure for my heart

Mix a few kisses with a few insults.]

Like Keats, Hafiz is a poet of the senses. He revels in the pleasures of the five senses. He longs to benefit from and enjoy the pleasures that are currently out of his reach. Consider a few couplets:

Gosham hamah bar qawl-e-nay o naghmah-e-chang ast

Chashmam hamah bar la'al-e-lab o gardish-e-jam ast

[My ear is entirely focused on the voice of the flute and the melody of the harp

My eye is entirely fixed on the ruby lips and the circulation of the cup.]

Dar majlis-e-ma itr miyamiz keh jan ra

Har lahza z-gesu-e-tu khushbu-e-masham ast

[Do not bring perfume into our gathering, for my soul

Is perfumed every moment by the fragrance of your tresses.]

Saba agar guzare uftadat ba-kishwar-e-dost

Biyar nafha-e-az gesu-e-mu'ambar-e-dost

[O morning breeze, if you happen to pass through the land of the beloved

Bring a fragrant breath from the amber-scented tresses of the beloved.]

Garchah piram tu shabe tang dar aghosham gir

Ta sahar-gah z-kinar-e-tu jawan barkhezam

[Though I am old, hold me tightly in your embrace for one night

So that at dawn, I may rise from your side as a young man.]

Sharbat az lab-e-la'alash na chashidem o buraft

Roy-e-mah-paikar-e-oo ser nadidem o buraft

[We did not taste the sweet syrup from her ruby lips, and she left

We did not gaze our fill upon her moon-like face, and she left.]

The inclusion of wine, melody, flowers, and the beloved in Hafiz's pursuit of pleasure makes him a poet of the senses. Hafiz's hedonism is content with satisfying the senses. He is not in favor of exchanging material pleasures for philosophical ones. He knows that the satisfaction of solving the problems of life cannot equal the touch of the beloved. To trade the touch of the beloved's ruby lips for the joy of spiritual revelation and ascension is the death of pleasure. Spending the night standing on one leg in divine worship may be an elevated, sublime pleasure, but it cannot substitute the joy of stumbling with a wine goblet in hand. However, apart from the five external senses, there is also a vast reservoir of the pleasures of memory in his work (which, due to its significance, warrants a separate essay and is currently outside the scope of our topic).

The essence of this entire discussion is that Hafiz has attempted to transform the tavern (Kharabat) into an ideal realm of pleasure, a world of his own making. He has sought to establish his own utopian system within it. The pursuit of pleasure serves as the fundamental principle—the very key—to this paradise. It is a paradise of the five senses. Here, the kind of overthinking that burns one to the bone and yields nothing is viewed with disdain. This realm is filled with blessings such as spring, flowers, fragrances, the song of the morning breeze, gentle winds, and flowing waters—the very delights promised in the afterlife. Wine flows like water here. This is, in fact, a special concession that Hafiz grants the inhabitants of this palace, ensuring that adherence to its rules never becomes a burden to them.

Drink wine, but abstain from hypocrisy, deceit, the peddling of piety, the arrogance of righteousness, the oppression of others, mutual excommunication, baseness, servility, fraud, flattery, sycophancy, worldly traps, and illicit wealth. If you enter this place adorned with the virtues of courtesy, generosity, a cheerful disposition, empathy, a spirit of surrender, affection, companionship, unity, good manners, tolerance, compassion, humility, reverence, contentment with lawful earnings, and a deep respect for humanity—and if you pledge to uphold these conditions—then Hafiz will open the gates to this city of joy and lift the seal from the wine vat.

There is no doubt that Hafiz exhibits a far greater awareness of the external world than most Persian poets. His work contains overt references to political events. However, his reaction to these events was a profound realization that the highest values of life were in peril. The world is a web of illusion; chaos, anarchy, and extremes reign everywhere. Intellect and logic are powerless to untangle these knots. Therefore, he suggests, let us spend the fleeting moments of life in some secluded corner, with an intoxicating goblet in hand and a beloved in our arms, for there is no remedy against the decrees of fate. We are all helpless. True, these circumstances will not last forever, but we are equally powerless to change them. In such times, the pursuit of joy and delight is the highest good, and the tavern is the ultimate sanctuary. If the external world ever improves—if balance, moderation, and peace are restored to life—then we shall return to it. The world of the tavern that Hafiz has created is entirely free from turmoil. Absolute tranquility prevails here, akin to a state of half-slumber. Occasionally, the secrets of the age might cause a slight disruption, but even this mild unpleasantness never escalates into chaos. In the poetry of Dagh and Riyaz, the tavern is often a place of uproar, reflecting the hustle and bustle of life. Hafiz’s tavern, however, is the world of the Lotus-Eaters. The very concept of turmoil is unimaginable here. Everyone exists at the absolute pinnacle of ecstasy, intoxication, and self-abandonment, dominated by a state of mental emptiness (though this state in Hafiz is quite distinct from a similar state found in Khayyam).