Poem #111

When your face reflected in the cup of wine

The mystic saw a vision, pure, divine. From wine's bright laughter, raw desire awoke, And in his heart, a thousand longings spoke.

Your beauty cast one glance upon the glass

And brought a world of images to pass. All these forms that in our fancy play, Are but reflections of that single ray.

These pictures of the wine, the artist's line

Are shadows of a beauty more divine. One radiance from the Cupbearer's bright face, Fell in the cup and filled the empty space.

Love's jealousy has silenced every tongue

The songs of the elite remain unsung. How did the secret of this holy grief, Fall to the common, bringing no relief?

I did not fall from mosque to tavern floor

By my own will, or seek the winehouse door. This fate was written in the dawn of time, A destiny eternal and sublime.

What can one do but turn within the round

Like a compass on the paper bound? Caught in the circle of the spinning days, We follow where the hand of fortune plays.

My heart hung in your tress's curved snare

Trying to flee the chin's deep well of care. Alas, it climbed from darkness to the light, Only to fall into a trap more tight.

O Master, if you see me in the cell

Know that my spirit does not truly dwell. My business lies with wine and lovely face, Far from the monastery's sober grace.

Under the sword of grief, one must dance on

Until the breath of life is fully gone. For he who dies by love's enchanting hand, Has reached the goal and blessed the final land.

Every moment she shows a different grace

To me, the burned one, in this lonely place. See how this beggar, poor and destitute, Received a favor, absolute and mute.

The Sufis play with glances, drink the wine

But keep their secrets hidden and divine. Among them all, Hafez alone is named, The heart-burned lover, publicly shamed.