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This page shows only audio recordings by فریبا علومی یزدی.
Ghazaliyat by Hafez, in audio recordings by فریبا علومی یزدی
The court of the garden is joy-giving; and the society of friends, pleasant; Pleasant, be the time of the rose, whereby the time of wine-drinkers is pleasant.
‘Tis a time since the passion for idols was my faith: The pain of this work, the joy of the sorrowful heart of mine is.
The produce of the workshop of existence and dwelling all this is naught; Bring wine. For the goods of the world all this is naught.
At dawn, the bird of the sward spake to the rose: “Display less disdain; for, in this garden many a one like thee hath blossomed.”
That Bold One of Angel-face who, last night, by me passed, What sin saw He that, by way of sin, He passed?
On account of that heart-cherishing beloved, thanks with complaint are mine: If thou be a subtlety-understander of love list well to this tale.
Yesterday, the Pir, the wine-seller whose mention be for good! Said: “Drink wine; and, from recollection, take the heart’s grief.”
In need of the physician’s care, thy body be not; Vexed by injury, thy tender existence be not!
When, into the mirror of the cup, the reflection of Thy face fell, From the laughter of wine, into the crude desire of the cup, the Aref fell.
At the time of His face, retirement from the sward, our heart hath: For, like the cypress, foot-binding it is; and like the tulip, stain it hath.
Every one, who, his heart collected and the beloved acceptable hath, Happiness became his fellow-companion; and fortune, his fellow-sitter, he hath.
Every one, who regardeth the people of fidelity, Him, in every state, from calamity God preserveth.
Wonderful harmony and great melody, my minstrel of love hath: Every picture of the hidden that he striketh, path to place hath.
That one is not the beloved, who hath a hair and a waist: Be the slave of the form of that one who, ravishingness to the highest degree, hath.
In this city is no idol that, our heart, taketh: If fortune be my friend, hence my chattels, it taketh.
Like the wind, resolution of the head of the Beloved’s street, I will make: By His pleasant perfume, my own breath, musk-raining, I will make.
Memory be of that one, who, at the time of journeying memory of us made not: Who, by farewell, joyous our grief-stricken heart made not.
O heart! the grief of love, again, thou sawest what it did, When the heart-ravisher went; and with the beloved, fidelity-observing, what it did.
Search for the cup of Jamshid from me, years my heart made. And for what it possessed, from a stranger, entreaty made.
Save the love of those moon of face, a path my heart taketh not: To it, in every way, I give counsel; but it kindleth not.
A world altogether, to pass life a single moment in grief is not worth: For wine, sell our ragged religious garment; for more than this it is not worth.
In eternity without beginning, of glory, the splendor-ray of Thy beauty boasted. Revealed became love; and, upon all the world, fire dashed.
Desire of passion for Thy fresh down to whomsoever, shall be: Forth from the circle he planteth not his foot, so long as he shall be.
I and refusal of wine! What a tale this is! Doubtless, this degree of reason mine; and sufficient is.
Not all purity without alloy is the coat of the Sufi; O many a Khirka, that is worthy of the fire!
Pleasant is Khalvat, if my beloved, the Beloved shall be Not if I consume and the candle of assembly, He shall be.
Without the beloved’s face, the rose is not pleasant. Without wine, spring is not pleasant.
Musk-diffusing, the breath of the morning breeze shall be: Again the world old young shall be.
As for me, out of my head, love for those dark of eye will not go: This is the sky’s decree; and other way, it will not be.
The star gleamed; and the moon of the assembly became: Of our affrighted heart, the consoler and comforter became.
Friendship in none, I perceive. To friends what hath happened? Friendship ended when? To friends what hath happened?
O heart! glad tidings that the morning breeze hath come back, From the quarters of Saba the lap-wing of good news hath come back.
For the congratulation of the Pir, wine-seller, the morning-breeze came Saying: “The season of joy, and of pleasure, and of freshness, and of sweet ness is came.”
Not every beloved one that up-kindleth his face the work of a heart-ravisher knoweth. Not every one who maketh the mirror, the work of a Eskandar knoweth.
Whoever became the confidant of his own heart, in the sacred fold of the Beloved remained: He, who knew not this matter, in ignorance remained.
Arrived the glad tidings that grief’s time shall not remain: Like that remained not; like this shall not remain.
Thou wrotest not the account of thy state; and, passed some time: Where a confidant so that to thee, I may send some message?
Last night, at morning time, me freedom from grief, they (Fate and Destiny) gave. And, in that darkness of night, me the water-of-life they gave.
Last night I saw that the angels beat the door of the tavern, The clay of Adam, they shaped and into the mould, they cast.
O heart! Consume. For deeds thy consuming maketh: The repelling of a hundred calamities, the midnight supplication maketh.
For profligacy and love, my censure that foolish one maketh; Who, on the mysteries of men of hidden knowledge, criticism maketh.
The admonishers who, in the prayer-arch and the pulpit, grandeur make, When into their chamber they go, that work of another kind they make.
Mine be recollection of that time, when my dwelling, the head of thy street was. (When) from the dust of thy door, to my eye the acquisition of luminosity was.
Last night, in our (assembly of lovers for zikr, formed like a) circle, the tale of Thy tress (the path of seekers to the divine world) was: Until the heart (middle) of the night (which is the season for manifestations), speech regarding the (long) chain of Thy hair was.
Last night, He (the true Beloved) came ; and His cheek, He had enkindled. Let us see, the grief-stricken heart (of the lover), how He had consumed.
Verily the jewel of the treasure of mysteries is as it was : With that seal and mark, the chest of (our) love is as it was.
From the tablet of my heart and soul, Thy image, ever goeth not : From my recollection, that proudly moving cypress ever goeth not.
I fear lest, in respect of our grief, tears, the screen-render should be, And, in the world, this sealed mystery a (revealed) tale should be.
If, from thy garden, I pluck a rose, what may it be ? (If), by thy lamp (of splendour), I see before my feet what may it be?
To the (true Beloved), I said : " Grief for Thee, I have." He said : " To an end (when union is attained), thy grief cometh:" I spake saying: "Be my moon (make luminous like the moon my eye and bosom)." He said : " (I will be thy moon), if forth, (the chance) cometh."
