Hafez’s ‘Shirazi Turk’ Ghazal in Farsi

Part 5 of Persian Poetry for People Who Don’t Read Poetry

← Ep 4: Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh | Series Index | Ep 6: Khayyam’s Rubaiyat →

This post is part of our Persian poetry collection. See all poets and poems organized by level: Persian Poetry for Language Learners.

If you’ve spent any time on Persian-language Instagram, you’ve seen this hafez ghazal translation pop up. probably over a sunset photo or a close-up of someone’s eye. The line about giving away Samarkand and Bukhara for a beauty mark. It’s the most-quoted couplet in Persian poetry, full stop. And most people posting it have no idea what the rest of the ghazal says.

The poem is by Hafez (حافظ), the 14th-century master of Shiraz, and it opens with one of the most famous conditional sentences in the Persian language: “Agar ān Tork-e Shirāzi be dast ārad del-e mā rā…”. “If that Shirazi Turk would take my heart in hand…” What follows is a full ghazal of longing, wine, beauty, and one very famous real estate deal involving Central Asian cities. I’m going to break it down couplet by couplet, teach you the grammar and vocabulary, and explain why Iranians can’t stop quoting it.

The Ghazal: Full Text and Context

This ghazal is from Hafez’s Divān, his collected poems. Like most ghazals, it follows a strict form: each couplet (beyt / بیت) is self-contained but thematically linked, and the poet’s pen name appears in the final couplet. The rhyme scheme links the two halves of the opening couplet and then the second line of every couplet after that.

Hafez wrote in 14th-century Shiraz during a period of political turmoil, court intrigue, and. if you believe the poems. a lot of wine drinking. His ghazals operate on multiple levels simultaneously: romantic love, mystical love, political commentary, and philosophical reflection. The “Shirazi Turk” ghazal is a perfect example. On the surface, it’s a love poem. Below that surface, things get more complicated.

Let me walk you through the key couplets. I’m using the most widely accepted version of the text. there are manuscript variations, as with most of Hafez.

Couplet 1: The Line Everyone Knows

Original Farsi:
اگر آن ترکِ شیرازی به دست آرد دلِ ما را
به خالِ هندویش بخشم سمرقند و بخارا را

Transliteration:
Agar ān Tork-e Shirāzi be dast ārad del-e mā rā
Be khāl-e Hendu-yash bakhsham Samarqand o Bokhārā rā

Translation:
If that Shirazi Turk would take my heart in hand
For their Hindu mole, I’d give away Samarkand and Bukhara

Let’s unpack this. The conditional structure agar… be dast ārad (اگر… به دست آرد) means “if [they] would capture/take.” The verb be dast āvardan (به دست آوردن) means to obtain, to take in hand. you’ll still hear it in spoken Farsi all the time.

The Tork-e Shirāzi (ترک شیرازی). “Turk of Shiraz”. is the beloved. In medieval Persian poetry, Turkic features (fair skin, narrow eyes, a certain kind of beauty) were the standard ideal. This wasn’t about ethnicity in the modern sense. it was a poetic convention for beauty, the way Renaissance poets wrote about golden hair.

Then: khāl-e Hendu (خال هندویش). literally “their Hindu mole.” A khāl (خال) is a beauty mark or mole. “Hindu” here refers to the dark color (like someone from Hindustan), creating a contrast with the fair “Turkic” beauty. For this single dark spot on a beautiful face, the poet would give away Samarqand o Bokhārā (سمرقند و بخارا). two of the wealthiest cities of the medieval Islamic world.

The verb bakhshidam (بخشیدن) means to give, to forgive, to bestow. Bakhsham is first person: “I would give.” The whole couplet is a hyperbolic conditional. an outrageous offer that’s the point. Nobody’s actually trading cities. That’s what makes it perfect as a compliment.

Couplet 2: Wine and Ruins

Original Farsi:
بده ساقی می باقی که در جنّت نخواهی یافت
کنارِ آبِ رُکن‌آباد و گُلگشتِ مُصلّا را

Transliteration:
Bedeh sāqi mey-e bāqi ke dar jannat nakhāhi yāft
Kenār-e āb-e Roknābād o golgasht-e Mosallā rā

Translation:
Give me the remaining wine, O cupbearer. for in paradise you won’t find
The banks of Roknabad’s water or Mosalla’s rose garden

Hafez pivots from love to wine and place. The sāqi (ساقی). cupbearer. is a central figure in Persian poetry, both literal (the person pouring wine) and mystical (the divine source of spiritual intoxication). Mey-e bāqi (می باقی) means “the remaining wine” or “the eternal wine,” depending on how you read bāqi. and Hafez absolutely intended both readings.

Roknābād (رکن‌آباد) is a famous stream in Shiraz. Mosallā (مصلّا) is a garden and prayer ground on the city’s outskirts. Hafez is saying: even paradise can’t compete with Shiraz. This is local pride turned into theology. and Shirazis still quote this line when they’re bragging about their city (which is often).

The word golgasht (گلگشت). literally “rose-walking,” meaning a rose garden promenade. is one of those beautiful Persian compounds. Gol (گل) = flower/rose, gasht (گشت) = strolling.

Couplet 3: The Troublemakers of Love

Original Farsi:
فغان کاین لولیانِ شوخِ شیرین‌کار شهرآشوب
چنان بردند صبر از دل که ترکان خوانِ یغما را

Transliteration:
Faghān k’in luliyān-e shukh-e shirin-kār-e shahr-āshub
Chonān bordand sabr az del ke Torkān khān-e yaghmā rā

Translation:
Alas! These bold, sweet-acting, city-troubling wanderers
Have stolen patience from my heart as Turks plunder a feast

This couplet is packed. Luliyān (لولیان). sometimes translated as “gypsies” or “wanderers”. refers to roaming performers or beautiful troublemakers. Shukh (شوخ) means bold, playful, impudent. it’s still common in modern Persian. Shirin-kār (شیرین‌کار) = sweet-acting. Shahr-āshub (شهرآشوب) = city-disturbing, someone whose beauty causes chaos in the whole town.

The simile compares the theft of patience to Turkic raiders plundering a feast table (khān-e yaghmā / خوان یغما). Sabr (صبر). patience. is a word every Farsi learner should know. It comes from Arabic but is completely naturalized in Persian. “Sabr kon” (صبر کن). be patient. is something you’ll hear ten times a day in Iran.

Couplet 4: Beauty Needs No Advice

Original Farsi:
ز عشقِ ناتمام ما جمالِ یار مستغنی‌ست
به آبِ و رنگ و خال و خط چه حاجت روی زیبا را

Transliteration:
Ze eshq-e nā-tamām-e mā jamāl-e yār mostaghni-st
Be āb o rang o khāl o khat che hājat ruy-e zibā rā

Translation:
Our incomplete love has no effect on the beloved’s beauty
What need has a beautiful face for water, color, mole, or line?

Here Hafez gets philosophical. Mostaghni (مستغنی) means self-sufficient, having no need. the beloved’s beauty exists independently of whether anyone loves them properly. The word jamāl (جمال) means beauty (especially of the face). Ruy-e zibā (روی زیبا) = beautiful face. Zibā (زیبا) is the standard word for beautiful in modern Persian. you’ll use it constantly.

The list. āb o rang o khāl o khat (آب و رنگ و خال و خط). translates roughly as “luster, color, beauty mark, and down (facial hair)”. the four elements of idealized beauty in classical Persian aesthetics. Hafez is saying true beauty doesn’t need cosmetic enhancement.

The Closing Couplet: Hafez Names Himself

Original Farsi:
غزل گفتی و دُر سُفتی بیا و خوش بخوان حافظ
که بر نظمِ تو افشاند فلک عقدِ ثریّا را

Transliteration:
Ghazal gofti o dorr softi biyā o khosh bekhān Hāfez
Ke bar nazm-e to afshānad falak eqd-e Sorayyā rā

Translation:
You’ve spoken a ghazal and strung pearls. come, sing sweetly, Hafez
For the sky scatters the necklace of the Pleiades upon your verse

In the traditional ghazal form, the poet drops their takhallus (تخلّص). pen name. in the final couplet. Here Hafez addresses himself. Dorr softan (دُر سُفتن) = to string pearls, a metaphor for writing poetry. Falak (فلک) = the sky, fate, the celestial sphere. Sorayyā (ثریّا) = the Pleiades star cluster, imagined as a necklace. He’s saying: the stars themselves applaud your verse. Not modest. but when you’re Hafez, you’ve earned it.

Key Vocabulary from This Ghazal

The “Tork-e Shirazi” Debate

For centuries, people have argued about who the “Shirazi Turk” actually was. Some candidates: a specific person Hafez was in love with, a Turkic prince or soldier stationed in Shiraz, a mystical symbol for God or the divine beloved, or simply a literary device. the “beautiful one” rendered in the standard poetic vocabulary of the time.

The honest answer? We don’t know, and Hafez probably wanted it that way. Persian ghazal poetry thrives on ambiguity. the beloved is simultaneously a person, an ideal, and a spiritual reality. Pinning it down would ruin the effect.

What we do know is that the reference to Turkic beauty was standard in medieval Persian poetry. Turkic peoples. Seljuks, various military dynasties. had been a powerful presence in the Persian-speaking world for centuries by Hafez’s time. “Tork” in poetry meant beautiful, often with connotations of cruelty or aloofness (the beloved who doesn’t reciprocate). It was a poetic type, not an ethnic description.

There’s also a famous story. again, probably apocryphal. that Tamerlane (Timur), the fearsome Turkic-Mongol conqueror, confronted Hafez about this poem. “You’d give away my cities Samarkand and Bukhara for a mole?” he supposedly asked. Hafez reportedly replied: “Yes, sire, and it’s precisely such generosity that has reduced me to my current poverty.” Whether it happened or not, the anecdote captures something real about Hafez. the wit that made him untouchable even to kings.

How Iranians Use This Ghazal Today

The Samarkand-and-Bukhara line has become the standard Persian template for hyperbolic compliments. You want to tell someone they’re worth more than anything? You offer up Samarkand and Bukhara. It doesn’t matter that these cities are now in Uzbekistan and have nothing to do with the speaker. the reference has transcended geography.

On Instagram and social media: The first couplet is the most-used Persian poetry caption. Photos of lovers, sunsets, cups of tea. slap the Samarkand line on it, and you’ve got content. It’s the Persian equivalent of posting “To be or not to be” on a selfie, except people actually mean it emotionally when they use it.

As a compliment: Telling someone “barāt Samarqand o Bokhārā rā midaham” (I’d give you Samarkand and Bukhara) is understood as extreme flattery. It’s playful and literary at the same time. Good for flirting. Iranians won’t blink. they know exactly what you’re referencing.

The Roknabad line for local pride: Shirazis use the second couplet to assert that Shiraz is basically heaven on earth. Other Iranian cities find this endearing or annoying, depending on their relationship with Shiraz. It’s the same energy as a New Yorker quoting Sinatra’s “New York, New York.”

In Hafez divination (fāl-e Hāfez): Iranians traditionally open Hafez’s Divān at random to get guidance. like a poetry oracle. If this ghazal comes up, it’s generally interpreted as a good sign: something or someone beautiful is coming into your life, and you should be ready to give generously for it. I wrote more about the tradition of reading Hafez in Episode 1 of this series.

The Grammar Worth Noticing

The opening conditional. agar… be dast ārad… bakhsham. is a great example of the Persian conditional structure. The “if” clause uses the subjunctive (be dast ārad), and the result clause uses the simple present/future (bakhsham = I would give). This is the pattern you’ll use for hypothetical conditionals in Farsi: agar + subjunctive, then result.

Compare it to how you’d say it in modern spoken Farsi: “Agar un Tork-e Shirāzi del-e mā ro be dast biāre, Samarqand o Bokhārā ro behesh midadam.” The structure is the same. the vocabulary just gets updated. Classical Persian grammar and modern grammar aren’t as far apart as people think, especially in conditional sentences. That “agar… subjunctive” pattern hasn’t changed in 700 years.

FAQs

Seven hundred years, and this ghazal is still the go-to caption for when words fail. That’s the power of getting the conditional sentence just right. Hafez’s “agar” has outlasted empires. If you want to understand how conditionals work across all of Persian, or if the gap between the classical Farsi here and what people actually say in Tehran is confusing you, check out my piece on spoken Farsi vs. written Persian.

Want to learn the vocabulary from this poem? Try ZabanYar. it’s free and works offline.

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Want to read Hafez together, line by line, with someone who speaks the language? Grab a spot on my Preply calendar. Persian poetry is better with a guide who actually reads it →

← Ep 4: Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh | Series Index | Ep 6: Khayyam’s Rubaiyat →

This post is part of our Persian poetry collection. See all poets and poems organized by level: Persian Poetry for Language Learners.