Hafez's Praise for the Defiance of Adam and Eve

In the scriptures of Abrahamic religions, the sin of Adam and Eve and their act of disobedience are widely discussed. Many writers and poets have condemned them, blaming humanity’s suffering and sinful nature on that original transgression.

They argue that Adam and Eve once held the highest position—Paradise—and through their disobedience, they lost it. In this view, the hardships of earthly life are a direct consequence of their fall from grace.

Yet not all thinkers and artists accepted this narrative. Among those who challenged this view was the great Persian poet Hafez of Shiraz, whose poetry often presents a distinct interpretation.

While some descendants of Adam feel shame in being his children—believing he sinned, repented, and was still exiled to Earth as punishment—Hafez, by contrast, takes pride in his lineage. In several of his verses, he honors Adam and Eve, seeing their defiance not as disgrace, but as a dignified, even sacred, act.

For example, Hafez writes:

Do not let me despair of the Eternal Grace behind the veil;
How can you know, behind the curtain, what is fair or foul?

I was not the only one cast out from the cloak of piety—
My father too lost everlasting Paradise for a bite.

And Hafez, should you grasp a goblet at the hour of death,
Straight from the tavern’s alley, they'll lead you into Paradise.

In these lines, we find no regret for the loss of heaven. In fact, elsewhere, Hafez boldly declares that “the dust of the Beloved’s alley” is greater than “the gardens of paradise.”

I will not forsake the love of the beauty and the wine—
A hundred times I vowed, but never again shall I refrain.

The Garden of Eden, the shade of Tuba, palaces and houris—
I would not trade for the dust at my Beloved’s threshold.

It seems, in Hafez’s view, that Adam and Eve, through their defiance, were granted humanity—a sacred condition filled with joy and sorrow, virtue and fault. And this humanity, despite its flaws, is a divine gift, not a punishment. In this spirit, Hafez often praises God’s mercy and does not regard humanity’s exile from paradise as condemnation, but rather as a manifestation of divine generosity.

He even poses a rhetorical challenge: if Adam, in his purity, dared to defy, how could we not sip from the tavern’s wellspring?

O Saqi, bring water from the fountain of the tavern—
That we may wash these cloaks of pride from the cloister.

…
I know Your heart forgives the humble souls of night;
If You ask of me, let the morning breeze speak for me.

When lightning of rebellion struck the chosen Adam—
How can we claim a life untouched by sin?

To Hafez, a noble ruler must resemble a merciful God, one who grants dignity even after disobedience—not a wrathful tyrant who seeks revenge. God, in this light, sent Adam not into exile, but into a realm where “the dust of the Beloved’s street” surpasses all heavenly rewards. Not as punishment, but as a hidden grace.

Thus, Hafez turns the disobedience of Adam and Eve into a symbol of protest against sanctimonious preachers—those who shine on pulpits and prayer niches (1), yet behind closed doors commit what they condemn. Or scholars who, even while drunk, declare wine forbidden (2).

Hafez’s verses are layered with profound artistry and allow for multiple interpretations. Perhaps this is because he deeply explored the doctrines of various religions and philosophies and came to the insight that “all seek the Beloved” (3). Therefore, he composed poetry in a way that resonated universally—with mystics, rebels, lovers, and skeptics alike.

Indeed, the disobedience Hafez refers to time and again in his work can be seen as a turning point in the story of humanity—a rebellion that sparked progress.

Had Adam and Eve remained in paradise, humanity would never have known its vast achievements. There would have been no thought, no art, no will, no poetry. We would have been creatures circling endlessly in an eternal garden, avoiding a forbidden tree.

But it is precisely that spirit of defiance that empowered some humans to become forces of good—those who resisted tyranny and stood against injustice. History remembers how countless oppressive rulers tried to create obedient slaves, only to be overthrown by the rebellious spirit of free human beings.

Hafez is “joyful of his own word” and “a servant of love.” He carries a sorrow that delights him, for the pain of love is sweet. And so, even though many readings of his poetry are possible, one can see in this verse a powerful reflection of the view described above:

I was once an angel, and Paradise was my abode—
But Adam led me into this ruined, wondrous world.