If Hafiz Texts, You Answer

On Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, Made New by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach

by Olivia Braley

Hafiz is one of the most recognizable names in Persian poetry, perhaps especially to a Western audience. It’s not uncommon that it’s their first or only experience with the genre. This makes the arrival of a new translation all the more anticipated – possibly even loaded – and the work of the translators all the more crucial. The translator who gets it right opens borders of language and imagery previously uncrossable. 

I will admit that I was probably one of these readers. I had read some Persian poetry. I explored Hafiz, Rumi and a bit of other poetry in this genre, especially when I was just starting out as a poet and digging into the “greats,” the names I had heard people talk about, read at weddings, etc, etc, etc. As a teenager these works never gripped me the way Sylvia Plath did (yes, I was one of those high schoolers – Joy Division t-shirt, Doc Martens, heavy eyeliner and all). Later, as I dug into my own practice a bit more, I played with the ghazal form to varying degrees of success. But I never felt deeply connected to the work of poets such as Hafiz. 

It turns out I was waiting for Erfan Mojib & Gary Gach to come along and change my mind.

The Hafiz in the pages of Hafiz’s Little Book of Life: Made New by Erfan Mojib & Gary Gach is agile and dynamic. The collection is segmented into sections, called Gardens, that explore themes through brief vignettes that can be excerpted or read as one longer meditation on a subject. There are five sections that explore themes through different Gardens: Garden of the World; Garden of Wine; Garden of Love; Garden of Wisdom; Garden of Ecstasy.

One such vignette, from the Garden of Love section, reads as follows:

you : the whole morning

me : a candle in early dawn’s quietude

Breathtaking. Fresh. I would accept a poem with these lines for Stone of Madness in a heartbeat. I want to write a poem in this form. We are reading a new Hafiz – or Hafiz in a new way – and we should be grateful.

The vignette form throughout the collection also adds to this freshness, and invites the reader into an experience. One can consume pages quickly, immersing themselves in the world of Hafiz, but one can also linger on a few lines at a time, reading bit by bit. Translating these brief moments rather than entire ghazals and poems emphasizes the rhythm of each word and line, and makes us almost feel like we’re in conversation with – possibly even texting Hafiz. And, look, if Hafiz is hitting you up, you better answer.

In addition, through this formal choice in translation, the blank space itself becomes part of the collection, part of the poetry.  The rift between translation – and what gets lost – is made visual. The emotion of certain moments cannot be expressed: words fall short, at times, only silence will do. It also allows the translators to play with words on the page. For instance, from close to end of the collection:

Worry not about

What is & what’s not

B e h a p p y !

Every perfection

Will end in annihilation

These translations go for brevity and emotional resonance rather than trying to force a form or pattern on a language that these poems are not meant to inhabit. The result is fantastic: they maintain the heart, the inherent magic of the original. They are also inventive, fresh versions that get to the essence of Hafiz, the essence of emotion, the essence of the poetic form. By deviating from the form of the original they remain truer in meaning and delivery.

Beyond form, the collection also speaks to today’s culture. Writing across languages gives the translator the opportunity to (re)consider certain choices – the connotation of a word in one language may not ring in that same tenor in another, for instance. Gender and sexuality is fluid – and has different significance in certain times and cultures than it does in ours. Language itself creates certain realities – leading to new possibilities when going between them.

Specific to this collection, the Persian language leaves ambiguity in the gender of the beloved, which the translators were aware of and wrote into in this collection. References to the beloved could be “he,” could be “she” – they chose “you,” inclusive of all, and also, more intimate. It is as if the reader themselves is the beloved. (Again, Hafiz is texting you, answer!)

Language is porous and imperfect. Poetry works in several modes at once: considering the sonic quality of the words and syllables, their connotation and denotation. The implicit cultural assumptions in which we are embedded also influence our experience of the poem. And when reading poetry that transcends many of these barriers — temporal, cultural, linguistic — at once, the rift between the original text and translation is a little more rugged. Good translators such as Mojib & Gach consider all of this, and guide us across this rugged terrain with sure footing.

The beauty of translation is that it brings poems to life anew. The opportunity to have this experience with a poet as ancient and influential as Hafiz is a true gift.


Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, Trans. Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, $15.95.