Audio recordings
Ghazaliyat by Hafez, in audio recordings by محمدرضا مومن نژاد
This page shows only audio recordings by محمدرضا مومن نژاد.
Poems
غزل شمارهٔ 70مردم دیدهٔ ما جز به رُخَت ناظر نیست
A gazer, save upon Thy face, the pupil of our eye is not. A remembrancer save of Thee, our overturned heart is not.
غزل شمارهٔ 78دیدی که یار، جُز سَرِ جور و سِتَم نَداشت
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 83گر ز دستِ زلفِ مُشکینت خطایی رفت رفت
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 85شربتی از لبِ لعلش نچشیدیم و بِرَفت
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 86ساقی بیا که یار ز رخ پرده برگرفت
Saki! come; for the true Beloved hath taken up the veil, The work of the lamp of the Khilvatis again kindled.
غزل شمارهٔ 91ای غایب از نظر به خدا میسپارمت
O hidden from sight! to God, I entrust, thee. Thou consumedest my soul; yet with heart, friend I hold thee.
غزل شمارهٔ 92میرِ من خوش میروی کاندر سر و پا میرمت
غزل شمارهٔ 93چه لطف بود که ناگاه رَشحِهٔ قَلَمَت
What kindness it was when, suddenly, the dropping of thy pen Represented the obligations of our service according to the goodness of thee.
غزل شمارهٔ 97تویی که بر سرِ خوبانِ کشوری چون تاج
غزل شمارهٔ 98اگر به مذهبِ تو خونِ عاشق است مُباح
غزل شمارهٔ 104جمالت آفتابِ هر نظر باد
The sun of every vision, Thy beauty be More beautiful than the beauty, Thy beautiful face be.
غزل شمارهٔ 108خسروا گویِ فلک در خَمِ چوگان تو باد
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!
غزل شمارهٔ 124آن که از سُنبُلِ او، غالیه تابی دارد
That one, from whose hyacinth lock, a great torment, ambergris hath. Again, with those heart-gone, grace and reproach hath.
غزل شمارهٔ 130سحر بلبل حکایت با صبا کرد
In the morning, the nightingale told a tale to the east wind, Saying: for us what love for the face of the rose made.
غزل شمارهٔ 131بیا که تُرکِ فلک خوانِ روزه غارت کرد
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 133صوفی نَهاد دام و سَرِ حُقِّه، باز کَرْد
The Sufi laid the snare; and open, the cover of his box, made. With the sky sorcery-playing, the structure of deceit, he made.
غزل شمارهٔ 136دست در حلقهٔ آن زلفِ دوتا نتوان کرد
Into the curve of that doubled tress, the hand one cannot put: Reliance on Thy covenant and the morning breeze, one cannot make.
غزل شمارهٔ 137دل از من بُرد و روی از من نهان کرد
My heart from me, He took; concealed from me, His face, Lie made: For God’s sake! with whom can this sport be made?
غزل شمارهٔ 139رو بر رَهَش نهادم و بر من گذر نکرد
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 142دوستان دخترِ رَز توبه ز مستوری کرد
Friends! repentance of veiledness, the daughter of the vine made: To the Mohtaseb she went; and by permission the work made.
غزل شمارهٔ 144به سِرِّ جامِ جم آنگه نظر توانی کرد
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 147نسیمِ بادِ صبا دوشم آگهی آورد
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.”
غزل شمارهٔ 150ساقی ار باده از این دست به جام اندازد
If the Saki the wine into the cup, in this way cast All the Arefs into ever drinking, He will cast.
غزل شمارهٔ 151دَمی با غم به سر بردن، جهان یک سر نمیارزد
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 153سحر چون خسرو خاور، عَلَم بر کوهساران زد
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;
غزل شمارهٔ 154راهی بزن که آهی بر سازِ آن توان زد
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.
غزل شمارهٔ 155اگر روم ز پِیاش فتنهها برانگیزد
If after Him, I go, He up stirreth calamity: And if I sit from search, in wrath, He ariseth.
غزل شمارهٔ 162خوش آمد گُل وز آن خوشتر نباشد
Happy came the rose; and more happy than that aught is not. For, in thy hand, save the cup aught is not.
غزل شمارهٔ 171دوش از جنابِ آصف، پیکِ بشارت آمد
Last night a messenger of news from His Highness Asaf came. From His Highness Soleiman, the order of joy came.
غزل شمارهٔ 172عشقِ تو نهالِ حیرت آمد
Love for Thee, the plant of perturbation became Union with Thee, the perfection of perturbation became.
غزل شمارهٔ 176سَحَرم دولتِ بیدار به بالین آمد
In the morning, to my pillow, vigilant fortune came: Said: Arise! For that thy dear Khosro hath come.
غزل شمارهٔ 181بعد از این دستِ من و دامنِ آن سروِ بلند
غزل شمارهٔ 190کِلکِ مشکین تو روزی که ز ما یاد کند
One day, when recollection of us thy musky reed maketh, It will take reward: Two hundred slaves that free, it maketh_

