(d. AD 1289; AH 687)
Iraqi was the pen-name of the Persian poet Fakhruddin Ibrahim of Hamadan, an ancient city in Iran. His writings are almost entirely of a mystical and sometimes erotic nature.
Iraqi is said to have fallen in love and joined a band of Qalandars. He followed them to India, where he became a disciple of the famous Sufi saint Bahauddin Zakariya (1170–1267) of Multan. Eventually, Iraqi left Multan after the other dervishes complained that instead of meditating in silence he was singing a ghazal he had composed. He travelled to Asia Minor and became an influential follower of Mohyuddin Ibn ‘Arabi, his best-known work, Lama’at (Divine Flashes), being a commentary on Ibn ‘Arabi’s Fusus al-Hikam.
Iraqi died in Syria and was buried in Damascus alongside the tomb of Mohyuddin Ibn ‘Arabi, whose influence in Persia was partly due to Iraqi’s efforts.
The wine wherewith the cup they first filled high
Was borrowed from the Saqi’s languorous eye.
Since self-possessed the revellers they found
The draught of selflessness they handed round.
The loved one’s wine-red lips supplied the cup:
They named it ‘Lover’s wine’, and drank it up.
No rest the hair of those fair idols knows,
So many a heart it robs of its repose.
For good and bad a place within our hall
They found, and with one cup confounded all.
They cast the ball of Beauty on the field,
And at one charge compelled both worlds to yield.
The drunken revellers from eye and lip
The almond gather, and the sugar sip.
But that sweet lip, desired of all, most fair,
Maketh harsh words the helpless lover’s share.
They loosen and set free their locks of jet
That they therewith for hearts a snare may set.
A hundred messages their glances dart;
Their eyebrows signal secrets to the heart.
They speak in confidence and silence claim,
And then their secrets to the world proclaim.
Where’er in all the world is grief and gall
They mix them up, the mixture ‘Love’ they call.
Why should they seek to hurt Iraqi’s fame,
Since they themselves their secrets thus proclaim?
E. G. Browne
Make me happy, my Love, for I am sad.
Have pity on my heart, for I am wretched!
Show your face so I can marvel at it,
For that is what I yearn for in this world!
Without your face my Belief is Unbelief.
With your presence my Unbelief is Belief!
My heart is sad without union with you.
Make me happy as without you I am sad.
When I kissed the earth in supplication
A cry came forth from the earth:
You have stained my face
With this supplication of lies!
O unfortunate I that did not have the fate
Of your enemy’s life,
As your friend I bow my head
To feel the blow of your knife!
When I visited the gambling den
I saw kind and truthful men.
When I visited the mosque and temple
I got nothing but deceit!