James R. Newell
The Wisdom of Intoxication: Love and Madness in the Poetry of
Hafiz of Shiraz
Persian poet Hafiz of Shiraz (Khwaja Shams ud-Din Hafiz-i Shirazi, d.
1389) is widely recognized as the preeminent master of the Persian ghazal
form. In his native Iran, his Divan is revered to an extent rivaled only
by the holy Qur’an. The dominant theme in the poetry of Hafiz is the
tension between love and reason, madness and rationality. The unbalanced state
of mind is most often represented by drunkenness. In the most basic
understanding of the classical Persian ghazal genre, wine represents love
for the beloved. The lover becomes drunk on the wine of love for the beloved and
asserts the wisdom of this apparent irrationality as being superior to that of
reason. As Hafiz himself puts it: "O Hafiz, be content, and bear this pain
in silence, that will have to be enough/Those who judge all by reason, will
never understand the mystery of love (Newell, 2002)"
One aspect of the art of the ghazal is the ambiguity of the poet’s
intention. Is the poet writing about a flesh and blood beloved, or is the poem
to be taken as a mystical treatise describing love for and union with the
divine? In addition, Hafiz himself often functioned as a court poet, employing
the symbol of the Beloved on multiple levels: the personal, erotic beloved; the
patron to whom he directed his poem in hopes of obtaining financial compensation
for his art; and the mystical, divine Beloved, or God. Although critics debated
this ambiguity in the poetry of Hafiz during his lifetime, and continue to
debate it today (Schimmel, 1979), for Sufis (Islamic mystics) there has never
been any question but that the author’s intention was a mystical one. It is
typical of the poetry of Hafiz (see appendix I) that worldly and mystical themes
are woven together into a patchwork that is both grounded in an embodied
sensuality and at the same time transported into the mystical realm of the
For the Sufi, the madness of unbridled love for the beloved is not a
regression into chaos, but a discipline which leads one to a conscious union
with the source of all things. The cup of wine in classical Persian imagery can
be understood as the heart of the lover which holds the elixir of life: Divine
Love, the consumption of which ultimately leads to union with the Divine
Beloved. Intoxication is that state of madness which results from surrender to
this overpowering love for the Beloved, which seeks only fana
(annihilation) in the baqa (subsistence) of the Beloved/God.
When madness is understood in this way, as a spiritual experience, the idea
parallels the Jungian idea of individuation, which process necessarily involves
a breakdown and transformation of conscious structures of the personality in
order to make room for the inclusion of other, previously unconscious, contents
of the personality. The integration of these previously unconscious contents
results in a more functional psychological outlook, one in which the conscious
ego-complex and the unconscious work together with the full, affective
embodiment of the personality. The ego, the small ‘I,’ reunites with the
archetypal Self, from which it had previously differentiated, without becoming
overwhelmed by the experience, or losing its hard won sense of individuality.
This process of integration of unconscious contents, especially in the case of a
religious figure, or a creative artist, is often experienced as revelation. In
its most extreme manifestation, this advent of the archetypal Self can be, in
the words of Edward Edinger (1999), "world-shattering." It is,
"…the momentous event of the coming of the Self into conscious
realization. Of course, it manifests itself and is experienced in quite
different ways if occurring in the individual psyche or in the collective life
of the group; but in either case, it is a momentous event—literally
world-shattering. This is what the content of the Apocalypse archetype presents:
the shattering of the world as it has been, followed by its reconstitution (5).
My goal with this chapter is to outline parallels between the individuation
process as described by the founder of Analytical Psychology, C. G. Jung, and
the idea of divine madness in Sufism, as represented in the poetry of 14th
century Persian poet Hafiz of Shiraz. In the process of this exposition, I hope
additionally to shed light on the manner in which Analytical Psychology
understands the relationships between madness, the creative process, and
religious experience, and what that means for the creative individual. Although
my subject matter is poetry, which features religious themes, my method is
neither from the point of view of literary criticism, religious studies, nor
theology. My approach is psychological, and will explore understandings of the
relationship between madness and the development of consciousness.
The word individuation was coined by C. G. Jung in order to describe the
process of the differentiation of the ego from the unconscious, as well as from
its identification with social norms. As Jung (1990) says,
In general [individuation] is the process by which individual beings are
formed and differentiated; in particular, it is the development of the
psychological individual as a being distinct from the general,
collective psychology. Individuation, therefore, is a process of differentiation,
having for its goal the development of the individual personality (p. 448).
Thus, individuation is a direct result of social adaptation to the collective
while maintaining the unique characteristics of the individual. As Jung
continues, "Since Individuality is a prior psychological and
physiological datum, it also expresses itself in psychological ways" (p.
448). That is, it becomes necessary for the individual to remain psychologically
congruous and authentic in relation to his or her specific individual traits and
characteristics while at the same time adapting to the collective. Any attempt,
in either a deliberately dishonest or even an innocently unconscious way, to be
something that one is not will result in neurosis or worse. This movement away
from collective norms is not to be confused with a lack of development or
regressive tendencies. "Under no circumstances can individuation be the
sole aim of psychological education. Before it can be taken as a goal, the
educational aim of adaptation to the necessary minimum of collective norms must
first be attained" (p. 449). In this sense, then, individuation can be seen
first as a process of differentiation of the ego from the unconscious, and then
as a second process by which one further differentiates from collective norms
that are incongruent with an individual's personal qualities and traits.
This first level of differentiation begins with the development of ego
consciousness in childhood. Neumann (1976) describes this process of ego
formation as being derivative of the archetypal Self. He uses here his own
contribution to the theory of individuation, which he terms "centroversion,"
We give the name of centroversion to the psychic function of the
totality, which in the first half of life leads, among other things, to the
formation of a center of consciousness, which position is gradually assumed
by the ego-complex. With this formation of a center, the Self establishes a
"derivative" of itself, an "authority," the ego, whose
role it is to represent the interests of the totality over against the
particular demands of the inner world and the environment (p. 9).
The further differentiation of the ego from the unconscious is described by
Neumann as the development of an ego-Self axis.
The ego-Self axis comes into being when the ego is established as a
derivative of the Self, when it moves away from the Self. This moving away
attains its culmination in the first half of life when the psyche separates
into conscious and unconscious systems and the ego achieves an apparent
autonomy. In the individuation process characteristic of the second half of
life, the ego and the Self move back together again (p.47). (See appendix
This movement of the ego and the Self toward each other in the second half of
life is related to the second level of differentiation mentioned above which
involves moving away from collective norms with a tendency to emphasize
individual traits and characteristics. What distinguishes this process of
differentiation from an identical process seen in Freudian and post-Freudian
psychologies is Jung’s claim that this entire process is unconsciously
directed and mediated by the activity of the archetypal Self.
In Neumann’s view, the tendency of the archetypes to canalize unusually
high levels of libido, or psychic energy, is experienced by outstanding
individuals as a revelatory experience that, when communicated to the
collective, provides a new direction for human cultural achievement. This
so-called "Great Individual" often appears to be mad when first
encountered by the collective because he or she represents some new element that
has not yet appeared in the collective experience. As Neumann (1973) puts it:
The Archetypal canon is always created and brought to birth by
'eccentric' individuals. These are the founders of religions, sects,
philosophies, political sciences, ideologies, and spiritual movements, in
the security of which the collective man lives without needing to come into
contact with the primordial fire of direct revelation, or to experience the
throes of creation (p. 376).
The claim, then, is that the new element presented to the collective by the
Great Individual is not solely an independent creation of the ego, but is the
product of the ego’s interaction with both the outer world of collective of
experience and the inner, directive experience of the archetype of the Self. As
Neumann puts it, "The collective unconscious of the group manifests itself
by taking possession of the individual, whose function it is, as an organ of the
group, to convey to it the contents of the unconscious" (p. 423).
This process can take many forms, and some phases of development can appear
to be regressive. The shaman, the prophet, or the creative artist, in the grip
of an emerging archetypal content, may sometimes appear to be moving backwards
in consciousness rather than forward. Jung’s (1973) claim, however, is that
the key to the development of consciousness is differentiation of the ego from
the unconscious, not simply the onward progression of life. Seen in this light,
the apparent backwards or regressive movement of consciousness in the creative
individual can be seen as a positive development leading towards the integration
of previously unconscious material with consciousness. As he puts it,
…regression is not necessarily a retrograde step in the sense of
backwards development or degeneration, but rather represents a necessary
phase of development…It is only if he remains stuck in this condition that
we can speak of involution or degeneration.
Again, progression should not be confused with development,
for the continuous flow or current of life is not necessarily development
and differentiation (p. 37).
Keeping in mind this assertion of Jung’s that differentiation, not simply a
progression of libido, is the defining element in the development of
consciousness, we can appreciate Neumann’s method of distinguishing between
development and regression. According to Neumann:
In the main, two things distinguish the revelation bearers from one
another: the first is the degree of conscious participation in the phenomena
of revelation; the second is the scope of the emergent contents…The lowest
place on the hierarchy is occupied by the Great Individual who is only a
passive carrier of projections…On a rather higher level stands the
individual whose personality is possessed directly by the unconscious
content--spirit, demon, God--even when his conscious mind does not
participate in its assimilation or interpretation…The Great Individual, on
the other hand, who is really a great man in the sense of being a great
personality, is characterized not only by the fact that the unconscious
content has him in its grip, but by the fact that his conscious mind also
has an active grip on the content (P. 424).
Using Neumann’s method as a guide, we will tentatively identify three
categories of revelation of unconscious contents. These categories are to be
understood developmentally, and are listed hierarchically from the lowest (most
regressive) to the highest (most differentiated):
- First we encounter individuals whose ego structures are not sufficiently
strong to withstand the incursion of unconscious contents. This could
include anything from severe psychosis to mild neurosis.
- Second we find individuals who are possessed by unconscious contents and
who are able to communicate archetypal truths, but do not have sufficient
ego strength to engage, fragment, and assimilate the archetypal images and
libidinous energies. In this category would be most shamans, many prophets,
some very gifted artists, etc.
- Third, we have the Great individual who is able to encounter and even
embody the archetype, but maintains, or regains, the directive,
discriminating power of the ego and is able to give specific, consciously
directed shape and form to archetypal energies. This could include
influential religious leaders, social reformers, artists, etc.
While considering this list we would do well to keep in mind Neumann's
observation that the "…scope of the emergent contents…" (p. 424)
may also be a factor in distinguishing how regressive any apparently revelatory
state might be. In this light, the scope of a revelation based only on the
integration of the personal level of an unconscious complex would not be as
great as the scope of a revelation that resulted from the integration of an
archetypal content. In terms of the Sufi worldview, evident in the poetry of
Hafiz, the content being integrated into consciousness can be understood at
times as a personal content (when the beloved is understood as a personal, human
object of affection) and at other times as being clearly archetypal (when the
Beloved is understood as a symbol for the deity). It is this archetypal sense
which is prominent in the underlying ideology of Sufism and which informs the
idea of madness as it so often appears in the poetry of Hafiz of Shiraz.
Hafiz in the context of Medieval Islam
Very little is known about the life of Hafiz. Although there are many
legends, they are largely attempts to extrapolate biographical data from the ghazals
themselves. Few historical facts can be established with any certainty. It is
known that Hafiz lived almost his entire life in the city of Shiraz, that he was
a court poet, that he had memorized the Qur’an (his pen name, Hafiz—literally
"rememberer"—is the title given to one who has committed the Qur’an
to memory), and it is known that he worked as a calligrapher, and taught
theology. Not much beyond this can be said. From the ghazals themselves
we can see that he was heavily influenced by the classical Persian imagery of
poets like Rumi (d. 1273) and Saadi (d. 1292). Saadi was also from Shiraz, as
was Ruzbihan Baqli (d. 1209). There are some sources that suggest that Hafiz
belonged to the Sufi order that was founded by Baqli’s family (Ernst, 1997a).
Hafiz also drew heavily on the mythology of the Shah-nameh (Book of
Kings) of Ferdowsi (d. 1020), and Islamic theology. All of these influences
underline and emphasize the predominant Sufi character of his poetry. Although
there have been many different opinions on the subject (Schimmel, 1979, Rheder,
1970) there are substantial grounds for understanding Hafiz as a Sufi poet. For
this reason it will be helpful to have an understanding of how Hafiz fits into
the broader context of Medieval Sufism. Through understanding this background we
will see more clearly the connections between the Sufi idea of madness, Jungian
ideas of individuation, and the creative process.
By the time Hafiz composed his ghazals, Sufism had become so well
established that it was the orthodoxy. In many of his poems, Hafiz rails against
the hypocritical Sufi as the one who maintains the letter of the law outwardly
but violates the inner spirit of the law. One Sufi of the period observed that,
"Today Sufism is a name without a reality, though it used to be a reality
without a name" (Ernst, 1985, 2). Another Sufi, al-Hallaj (d. 922), was
famous for emphasizing the nuances between the letter and the spirit of the law.
He is said to have once told one of his disciples, "May God veil you from
the exterior of the religious law, and may he reveal to you the reality of
infidelity. For the exterior of the religious law is a hidden idolatry, while
the reality of infidelity is manifest gnosis" (3). It was the orthodox
Sufis who practiced what al-Hallaj called "hidden idolatry", that were
the object of attacks from Hafiz. For al-Hallaj, the ultimate goal of the Sufi
is to transcend the law (shariah) and achieve "manifest gnosis"
through union with the Divine Beloved. The achievement of gnosis was understood
as an ascension whose ultimate aim was union with the creator. The great Sufi
thinker Ibn Arabi (d. 1240) describes the process of ascension to union in this
…all the steps of the meanings for the prophets, the friends, the
faithful, and the messengers are the same. No ladder has a single step more
than any other. The first step is Islam, which is submission (iniqiyad).
The last step is annihilation (fana) in going up (uruj) and
subsistence (baqa) in coming out (khuruj) (Chittick, 219).
Ruzbihan Baqli describes a similar process:
"Then is the station of unification (ittihad), of which the
beginning is annihilation (fana), the middle subsistence (baqa),
and the end essential union (‘ayn al-jam’). Annihilation is the
veil of subsistence, and subsistence is the veil of annihilation, but
essential union is pure unification (Ernst, 1985, 94).
Al-Hallaj claimed to have achieved this state of essential union with God,
and was eventually put to death in Bhagdad in 922 for uttering the words "I
am truth!" This historic moment in early Sufism is referred to by Hafiz in
one of his ghazals, in which he says: "Our friend who ended on the
gallows—his only crime was this—the blabbing of secrets" (Avery,
Stubbs, 1952, 43).
One of the ways that Hafiz expresses this idea of the tension between shariah
(the law) and tariqah (the esoteric path) is through the figure of the
"rind." Rind is a Persian noun that has been translated
many different ways; it generally refers to a person of questionable character.
Robert Rehder (1970) discusses this concept in the poetry of Hafiz and offers
several definitions of the word, a sampling includes: "…sagacious,
shrewd; a knave, a rogue; a Sufi; dissolute; a drunkard, one whose exterior is
subject to censure, but who at heart is sound; a wanderer, traveler; an
insolent, reckless, fear-nought fellow…" (254). According to Rehder the
ideas of the rind were "…developed into a way of life by the qalandari
dervishes, beginning in the second half of the…eleventh century" (253).
The law, then, for Hafiz, is love; there is no higher shariah than this.
Persian scholar J. T. De Bruijn (1997) describes the attitude this way,
"The true follower of the Path of Love is equal to the qalandar
dervish who is eager to sacrifice his good name as a pious Muslim for the sake
of his total submission to the Beloved" (80). As Hafiz says, "I am a
lover and a rind and a carousing wine-drinker, And all three offices I
hold because of that enchanting beauty" (311).
Madness in the context of Medieval and Modern Islam
To an outsider, the path of the rind, and the departure from the law
that is enacted by following this path, is seen as a form of madness. Another
understanding of this kind of madness, however, is that of one who is in state
of absorption, transfixed by an overpowering love for the Beloved, for God. The
word that is often used to describe this state in Medieval Islam is majnun.
The word itself originally meant both possession, as in possession by a jinn,
or daemonic spirit, as well as madness in the sense of a deranged individual. In
the early Meccan suras of the Qur’an, the prophet Muhammad is
accused of being majnun, but Allah defends him and declares that
Muhammad’s revelation comes from God, not from spirits. The word later came to
be used to describe someone absorbed in love for God. Early Islamic attitudes
towards madness were mixed, and the cause of madness was just as often
attributed to supernatural forces as to organic or infectious ones. The Greek
medicine of Galen was the predominant system at the time, but common medical
treatments were often combined with folk remedies from oral traditions dating
back to time of the prophet. This "Prophetic Medicine" often included
prayer, fasting, and remedies recommended by the prophet. Often in Medieval
Islamic society, madness was not even considered a problem that required
treatment at all. It was,
…perceived by some in Islamic society as a condition that did not need
to be treated, healed, or exorcised. Paradoxically, it could be excessive
love in the otherwise sane, the wisdom of the fool, or the divine love of
the mystic. Love is a natural and desirable aspect of human existence, but
obsessive love takes on the appearance of madness and its mysterious
qualities (Dols, 1992, 12).
This point of view is expressed in the idea of the majdhub; an
individual who experiences an overwhelming attraction to God. This attraction
causes the individual to lose all interest in the outer, physical world. The
Persian form of this phenomenon is called mast, or one who is so
intoxicated with love for God that they lose interest in everything except God.
In the case of the majdhub the understanding is that,
...the mystical call of the Sufi or dervish may be so sudden and the
person may follow it so quickly that he is believed to have become mentally
deranged. In fact, this state, being majdhub, was believed to be the
normal beginning in the careers of many dervishes. The majdhub
forgets all earthly things and follows only the internal call, living—so
to speak—with his Caller. Being completely absorbed by his inner life, his
outer existence is characterized by disconnected speech, repeating one and
the same sentence, and roaming aimlessly in the streets or fields...
Dols documents a number of majdhub cases in the Medieval period, but,
interestingly, the phenomenon is not something that appears only in the past. In
1949 a British physician, Dr. William Donkin (1988), published a book which
documents the work of Indian spiritual leader Meher Baba (d. 1969) with hundreds
of masts, or "God-intoxicated" individuals. This book contains
a detailed analysis of a variety of different types of God-intoxication and is a
veritable diagnostic manual of spiritual maladies. Carl Ernst (1997b) observes
that it is a document "…unparalleled in the history of religion…"
In his forward to Donkin’s book, Meher Baba describes the development of
the mast experience.
Those aspirants who get launched on the mast line, find themselves
propelled by an irresistible impulsion in the form of a yearning to realize
God as the Divine Beloved…As the mast advances on the inner planes he gets
more and more God intoxicated, and his yearning to be united with the Divine
Beloved becomes so acute and irresistible that it gradually takes him beyond
the domain of the mind...During the process of transcending the mind, the
mental make-up of the mast is subjected to so much disturbance and upheaval,
that he is unable to use his mind in the ordinary way (Donkin, 1988, p. 6).
In my own field research in India in 2004 I recorded qawwali singers
at the tomb of a Sufi saint named Tajuddin Baba (d. 1925), in Nagpur,
Maharashtra. Hagiographic accounts of the life of Tajuddin describe his meeting
with a Sufi master at a young age, after which he became interested in the
mystical life. In his late teens, Tajuddin began visiting another Sufi master,
Hazrat Daood Chishti, in a nearby town and began following his instructions (Bharadwaja,
1981). Tajuddin soon fell into a state of majdhubyat, we are told, and
was taken for a madman by many who encountered him. Taunted by children,
rejected by his family and friends, he was eventually committed for life to the
Nagpur insane asylum by British officials who had been offended by his bizarre
behavior. Some time prior to being committed, however, he had already begun to
attract a following of local people who understood his condition very
differently from the way the British authorities understood it.
As time went on, miraculous powers were attributed to the saint, and soon
literally thousands of people were coming to visit him in the mental hospital. A
new gate had to be built on the grounds in order to accommodate the throngs. Taj
Baba, as he is still affectionately referred to by the locals, did not remain
permanently absorbed in a trance state, but would from time to time become quite
lucid and give practical advice and encouragement to his followers. It is
reported that the head of the hospital himself eventually became a devotee, and
frequently went to his patient for advice. He would have released the patient
but British authorities refused to allow it. Eventually, after sixteen years in
the asylum, a local raja who was also a devotee convinced the authorities
to release the saint to his custody (Kalchuri, 1986). In this story we have a
modern hagiographic account which mirrors the classic Medieval understanding of
the majdhub. Such stories illustrate an understanding of a regression of
consciousness which is a positive development, not simply a break down of the
ego structure, or total loss of consciousness. A parallel process of regression
can also be seen in the creative individual who is drawn inward by the creative
process, abandoning his or her normal connections to the outer world.
Before embarking on further analysis of this material, a word about Jung’s
method, which I will employ here, will be helpful. As stated earlier, this is
neither a literary, religious studies, nor theological exercise, although our
findings may have useful applications for any or all of these fields. Jung
understood the human psyche to be one of the "givens" through which we
perceive the world. As such, the psyche leaves both individual and collective
impressions on everything that it touches. Just as my hand print will leave
clearly individual impressions (the fingerprints), it will also leave a
collective mark: most hands have four fingers and a thumb, a wrist, and other
common feature that are not of merely individual, but also of collective
importance. Jung found that by studying religious texts, art, mythology, dreams,
fantasies, and other individual and cultural artifacts, he was able to make
determinations of both individual and collective impressions that had been left
by the writer, artist, etc. The Jungian claim, then, is that we may find
elements of collective psychological significance in the study of religious and
literary phenomena. In the realm of religious phenomena, as we are considering
here, the approach is purely empirical, and does not take any metaphysical
position one way or the other. My aim here is not to be reductive, that is, my
aim is not to say that religious phenomena are "nothing but" this or
that psychological event, nor is it theological. I am not saying that God is
using the human psyche as his or her agency in this or that way. What I am
interested in is what this material can tell us about the healthy development of
human consciousness, and the implications of such development for creative
individuals, and the creative process itself.
From this perspective, if we consider the idea of madness in the poetry of
Hafiz in light of Jung’s theory of the individuation process, we see several
patterns begin to emerge. For one thing, the differentiation of the ego from the
unconscious can be seen in Sufism in the adherence to the collective norms of
the shariah, the Islamic law. The development of an individual, esoteric
path (tariqah), that may even appear to violate the cultural canon (as
endorsed by al-Hallaj), can then be seen as the further differentiation of the
ego from the collective along the line of individual traits and characteristics.
The path of the rind, endorsed by Hafiz, can also be seen as an
individual path to the archetypal Self. This is another aspect of the further
differentiation of the ego from the collective.
We have, then, if we employ Neumann’s schema, three different types of
madness to consider. First, there is the madness of the individual who is unable
to endure the intensity of love for the Beloved, that is, the individual who
does not have sufficient ego strength to endure the intense numinosity of the
encounter with the archetypal Self, and who falls into a regressive breakdown of
some type. Next we have the madness of one possessed by love for the Beloved,
but who can never enter into a meaningful dialogue, or union with, the Beloved,
that is, one who is taken over by the archetypal energies but can never reach
the final state of assimilation and annihilation (fana), or the conscious
communication with (baqa) the archetypal energies. This is the individual
who is identified with archetypal energies, not in communication with them, who
is stuck in the process and unable to differentiate further. Finally, we have
the madness of one who has achieved union with the Beloved, but whose
accomplishment is not appreciated by the world. This is the individual who has
negotiated the path to the Beloved, assimilated, fragmented and accessed the
archetypal energies and given them political, social, religious, or artistic
form, but is so far ahead of his or her time that she appears out of step,
eccentric, or mad. Since the idea of madness itself is a cultural construct, it
only has meaning in relation to an established norm. If the norm is to be crazy,
the sane individual, by another standard, is out of step with the norm. By the
standards of individuation, this individual is highly differentiated and working
for the broader good of the collective. By collective norms, however, he or she
will appear to be out of step, too eccentric to be accepted by the group, and
perhaps misunderstood enough to be considered mad by society.
So what does this mean for the creative individual? In the end, the creative
act is a dialogue between the ego and the unconscious. The ego must put in the
conscious work which coaxes a revelation from the unconscious. With only the
conscious work, however, and no dialogue with the unconscious, no creative
revelation, a split remains between the conscious and unconscious systems. In
this case, the creative work is at best lifeless, at worst the split will
eventually lead to an emotional and psychological imbalance. As Neumann (1974)
Every transformative or creative process comprises stages of possession.
To be moved, captivated, spellbound, signify to be possessed by something;
and without such a fascination and the emotional tension connected with it,
no concentration, no lasting interest, no creative process, are possible
If the revelation comes, and the ego strength of the artist is not sufficient
to manage the energies constellated, madness may indeed be the result. On the
other hand, there are those who negotiate the archetypal energies perfectly and
find themselves so far ahead of their fellows that their works will not be
appreciated in their lifetimes. Out of step with the norms of their time and
misunderstood by their potential patrons, they, too, may be branded mad. If
fortunate, however, they will learn to embrace and celebrate their madness, and
with Hafiz say:
Call me [king] of the mad, I who am without reason
Because in everything unwise, I am the best (Rehder, 1970, 315).
Alston, A. J., translator. (1996). In Search of Hafiz: 109 poems from the Divan of Hafiz,
pp. 75- 76. London: Shanti Sadan.
Avery, P., Heath-Stubbs, J., translators. (1952). Hafiz of Shiraz: Thirty Poems. London:
Bharadwaja, A. (1981). The Life and Teachings of Tajuddin Baba of Nagpur. Ongole: Sri
Chittick, William C. (1989). The Sufi Path of Knowledge: Ibn al-‘Arabi's Metaphysics
ofImagination. Albany: State University of New York Press.
De Bruijn, J. T. P. (1997). Persian Sufi Poetry: An Introduction to the Mystical Use ofClassical Poems. Richmond: Curzon Press.
Dols, M. (1992). Majnun: The Madman in the Medieval Islamic World. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Donkin, W. (1988). The Wayfarers: Meher Baba With the God-Intoxicated. Myrtle Beach: Sheriar Press.
Edinger, E. F. (1999). Archetype of the Apocalypse: A Jungian Study of the Book of Revelation. Chicago: Open Court.
Edinger, E. F. (1992). Ego and Archetype: Individuation and the Religious function of
thePsyche. Boston: Shambala Publications, Inc.
Ernst, Carl W., translator. (1997a). The Unveiling of Secrets: Diary of a Sufi Master, by
Ruzbihan Baqli. Chapel Hill: Parvardigar Press.
Ernst, C. W. (1997b). The Shambhala Guide to Sufism: An Essential Introduction to the Philosophy and Practice of the Mystical Tradition of Islam. Boston:
Ernst, C. W. (1985). Words of Ecstasy in Sufism. Albany: State University of New York
Jung, C. G. (1990). Collected Works, Volume 6. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Jung, C. G. (1973). On the Nature of the Psyche. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Neumann, E. (1976). The Child. New York: Harper and Row, Publishers.
Neumann, E. (1974). Art and the Creative Unconscious. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Neumann, E. (1973). The Origins and History of Consciousness. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Newell, J. R. (2002). The Cruel Passing of Time. Unpublished adaptation of Q. G. 306.
Rehder, R. M. (1970). Hafiz: An Introduction. Unpublished dissertation, Princeton
Schimmel, A. (1979). Hafiz and His Critics. Studies in Islam: Quarterly Journal of theIndian Institute of Islamic Studies, Vol 16, pp. 1-33.
O Saqi, illumine my cup
With the light of your sparkling wine.
Minstrel, sing the refrain
'The world is in tune with my desire'.
You have no notion
Of the joy of my continual intoxication:
I have seen the image of the Friend
Reflected in the cup.
He whose heart is lit with love never dies;
My eternity is testified
In the written record of creation.
The glances and blandishments
Of all tall beauties vanished
When my Beloved passed by, erect as a cypress,
Gait of a pine-tree swaying in the breeze.
O Wind! Take this message to my Beloved,
Should you visit the garden of the dear ones.
Say to him: 'Why forget my name expressly,
When the day will come
When it will be forgotten of its own accord?'
The intoxication in the eye of my Beloved
Is a delight to behold;
Hence I have entrusted the bridle of my life
To the hands of intoxication.
I fear that on the Day of Judgement
The hallowed bread of the Sheikh
Will avail him less than my illicit wine.
O Hafiz, shower the grain of your tears everywhere.
Perhaps the bird of Union with the Beloved
Will be attracted to come to your net.
(After a standard closing couplet, Hafiz has added the following
couplet to this ghazal as an addendum in honor of one of his court
patrons, Haji Qawam: The sky is the green sea and the new moon a boat
floating upon it/Both are drowned in the infinitude of the compassion of Haji
Alston, A. J., translator. (1996). In Search of Hafiz: 109 poems from the
Divan of Hafiz, pp. 75-76. London: Shanti Sadan.
Edinger, E. F. (1992). Ego and Archetype: Individuation and the Religious
function of the Psyche, pp. 5. Boston: Shambala Publications, Inc.