Audio recordings
This page shows only audio recordings by محمدرضا مومن نژاد.
Ghazaliyat by Hafez, in audio recordings by محمدرضا مومن نژاد
A gazer, save upon Thy face, the pupil of our eye is not. A remembrancer save of Thee, our overturned heart is not.
Thou sawest that, save the desire of violence and of tyranny, my beloved aught had not. He shattered the covenant; and, on account of our grief, grief had not.
If from the hand of Thy musky tress, a fault passed, it passed: And, if against us from Thy dark mole, an act of tyranny passed, it passed.
From His lip of ruby, a draft we tasted not; and He departed: His face, moon of form, we beheld not to our fill; and He departed.
Saki! come; for the true Beloved hath taken up the veil, The work of the lamp of the Khilvatis again kindled.
O hidden from sight! to God, I entrust, thee. Thou consumedest my soul; yet with heart, friend I hold thee.
My Lord! sweetly, Thou goest in so much that in Thee, head to foot (altogether) I die : My Bold One ! sweetly, Thou movest ; before Thee, I die.
What kindness it was when, suddenly, the dropping of thy pen Represented the obligations of our service according to the goodness of thee.
From all the heart-ravishers, it is fit that thou (O Muhammad) shouldest take tribute ; For, over all lovely ones (prophets), thou, crown-like, art chief.
If, in thy religious order, the (shedding of the) blood of the lover is lawful (to us it is lawful) : Our rectitude is all that which is thy rectitude.
The sun of every vision, Thy beauty be More beautiful than the beauty, Thy beautiful face be.
O Lord! the ball of the sky in the curve of the polo of thine be: The place of existence and of dwelling the space of the plain of thine be!
That one, from whose hyacinth lock, a great torment, ambergris hath. Again, with those heart-gone, grace and reproach hath.
In the morning, the nightingale told a tale to the east wind, Saying: for us what love for the face of the rose made.
Come; for plunder of the tray of fasting, the Turk of the sky hath made: Hint at the circulation of the cup, the new crescent moon hath made.
The Sufi laid the snare; and open, the cover of his box, made. With the sky sorcery-playing, the structure of deceit, he made.
Into the curve of that doubled tress, the hand one cannot put: Reliance on Thy covenant and the morning breeze, one cannot make.
My heart from me, He took; concealed from me, His face, Lie made: For God’s sake! with whom can this sport be made?
On her path, I laid my face; and by me passing, she made not. I hoped for a hundred kindnesses; yet one glance, she made not.
Friends! repentance of veiledness, the daughter of the vine made: To the Mohtaseb she went; and by permission the work made.
At the head of Jamshid’s cup, at that time thy glance, thou canst make, When the dust of the wine-house, the collyrium of thy eye, thou canst make.
Last night, news to me the messenger of the morning wind brought, Saying: “To shortness, its face, the day of labor and of grief hath brought.”
If the Saki the wine into the cup, in this way cast All the Arefs into ever drinking, He will cast.
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 the morning when, his standard on the mountainous lands, the Khosro of the east pitched, With the hand of mercy, the door of hopeful ones, my beloved beat;
Play a note, at the melody whereof, a great sigh, one can cast: Utter a verse, whereby the heavy cup of wine one can cast.
If after Him, I go, He up stirreth calamity: And if I sit from search, in wrath, He ariseth.
Happy came the rose; and more happy than that aught is not. For, in thy hand, save the cup aught is not.
Last night a messenger of news from His Highness Asaf came. From His Highness Soleiman, the order of joy came.
Love for Thee, the plant of perturbation became Union with Thee, the perfection of perturbation became.
In the morning, to my pillow, vigilant fortune came: Said: Arise! For that thy dear Khosro hath come.
After this, (together are) my hand and the skirt of that lofty cypress (the Prince of Khujand), Who, with a moving stature, plucked me up from root and branch (of the household).
One day, when recollection of us thy musky reed maketh, It will take reward: Two hundred slaves that free, it maketh_
Wine without adulteration and the Saki pleasing are two snares of the Path, From whose noose, (even) the wise ones of the world escape not.
O heart ! it may be that the door of the wine-houses, they will open : The knot (of difficulty) of our entangled work they will open.
Years, in pledge for the wine of the grape, our book (of knowledge and of conduct) was: From our reading and praying, the splendour of the wine-house (the perfect Arif's heart) was.
Be memory of that time (O true Beloved!) when towards us Thy exceeding glance (of mercy) was. (When) evident in our face, the writing of Thy love (mercy) was.
As long as name and trace of the tavern '(the existence of the traveller), and of wine (of love) shall be, The dust of the path of the Pir of the Magians (the murshid of love who is the King of seekers), our head, shall be.
By the sword (of inclination) of thine, the slaughter of this shattered one decreed, it was not : If not, by the glance of sorcery of thine, a fault it was not.
O Lord! in the street of the wine-house (the corner of Hafiz's heart), in the morning (the end of youth, the beginning of old age), what tumult (of zikr), that was : For, the clamour of the lovely one, and of the Saki (the form of God that, at the beginning of zikr is the spectacle-place of zakirs) ; and of the candle, and of the fire-grate (the fervour of divine lights, and the descending of endless bounties) was.
That friend, by whom our house the (happy) dwelling of the Pari was, Head to foot, free from defect, a Pari was.
O Muslims (kind of heart) ! once a heart, mine was. Whereto I used to utter (revelations) if a difficulty was.
In eternity without beginning, endowed with the bounty of fortune (love for God), whoever is The cup of his desire, to eternity without end, the fellow-companion of his soul is.
Now that from non-existence to existence into the sward (the world, the field of this, and of the next, world) hath come the rose (man) And, at its foot, the violet in homage hath laid its head,
Every one, who on account of shame, away from the head of Thy street, goeth, His work proceedeth not ; and, at last, to shame, he goeth.
O happy that heart that, ever, after the illusory goeth not, To every door whereto they call him not, without notice (invitation) he goeth not.
Saki ! the tale of the cypress and the rose and the tulip goeth. And with the three washers (cups of wine), this dispute goeth.
If the heart draw me to musky wine, it befitteth : For, from austerity and hypocrisy, the perfume of goodness cometh not.
When from the east, the cup (the holy traveller's existence) the sun of wine (of love) cometh up. From the garden of the cheek, of the Saki (the Murshid), many a tulip (of freshness) cometh up.
O how happy the time when the Beloved cometh back. When to the desire of the grief-stricken, the grief-consoler cometh back !
