By: Ali Hammoud* 

 

SYDNEY (Guardian) -- There are few poetic traditions in the world that have entrenched themselves so deeply in their respective societies as has the Persian poetic tradition. This presence, however, is not limited to discussions within literary circles or the adornment of public monuments. Nor is it strictly a source of aesthetic beauty. Within Persian speaking societies, people from all walks of life consult poetry for profound spiritual instruction or genuine guidance for the big decisions in life. This is particularly the case with Hafez.

Within the pantheon of Persian poets, perhaps none is as cherished and revered as Hafez, and with good reason. Reading the poetry of Hafez induces fragmented moments where one oscillates between body and soul; indeed, Wheeler Thackston writes that Hafez “sang a rare blend of human and mystic love so balanced, proportioned, and contrived with artful ease that it is impossible to separate the one from the other”. Within his poetic lines are levels and layers, each unfolding simultaneously upon the page and within the reader. Ethics, aesthetics and philosophy are all intertwined, and all possible meanings simmer simultaneously beneath the surface.

I became acquainted with Persian poetry through learning Persian for my PhD. Alongside its utility as a research language, reading these poetic works has inspired a great deal of joy and spiritual contemplation. Leaning on the perspectives of well-known commentators, I present below an analysis of a verse to demonstrate the multi-layered and rich understanding of Hafez, with the hope that it will also inspire introspection, wherever stage you may be at in life, as it has for Persian readers for generations upon generations.

In Shiraz I am famous for my love’s lively ways

My eyes have not been polluted with an evil gaze

On first reading, the meaning of the verse – in the original Persian – is apparent. Hafez is famous – or infamous – in Shiraz for his exuberant love and does not attune his eyes to see the faults of others. This is an admirable trait, particularly prominent within Malamati Sufism, that one should busy oneself with one’s own faults instead of the perceived faults of others. The key principles of the Malamati worldview include exuberant love; being open with one’s beliefs; concealing the faults of others; persevering through sneers and censures of others; and a perpetual struggle against self-centeredness.

The second level takes a step further. The evil gaze can also be interpreted as one infused with desire; not desire in and of itself, but a base desire motivated by deceit and duplicity that festers within the lower parts of the human soul and incites one to evil. Hafez informs us that he does not gaze upon others with such a fraudulent eye, instead opting to look upon others with genuine care and compassion.

But beyond these levels is something else; a perspective that offers a radical rethinking of how we view the relationship between God and creation. In the first line, when Hafez says that he is renowned in Shiraz for his audacious expressions of love, he is speaking to the idea that love is not something that can remain concealed. A lover may be able to conceal their love for a brief period of time, but if it is a true love, it will eventually burst forth; every glowing glance and minor motion will sing songs of their love. In this respect the lover mirrors God, as not even God could conceal his love, weaving it seamlessly into the tapestry of the cosmos.

The second line explains the result of this manifest love. The lover does not pollute their eye with seeing bad because a lover only sees beauty in existence. A gaze that is infused with love, purity and sincerity is incapable of seeing any evil in the world. The world’s beauty comes to the fore in all that they see, radiating from the mundane. The hidden hand of God becomes visible, the artist and artwork become one, and the Qur’anic verse “And God’s is the east and the west: and wherever you turn, there is God’s countenance” manifests before one’s eyes.

The aim of this piece is not to convince anyone that my reading of Hafez is correct, but to inspire others to delve deeper into Persian literature. Words possess a quasi-mystical power and, in the hands of the master Persian poets, can engender serious transformation: long-buried emotions are stirred, long-forgotten memories are retrieved and long-lost truths are found again. All that is left for us is to read them.

*Ali Hammoud is a PhD candidate at Western Sydney University.