Poem #120

I have an idol, round whose rosy face

Hyacinths cast a shadow of soft grace. Her cheek is spring, but in its lines I see, The blood of Judas-trees, a tragedy.

Dust of the down, conceal her sun-bright face

Let not the common eye behold her grace. O Lord, grant her eternal life and power, For she possesses beauty's timeless flower.

When I began to love, I thought I found

The pearl of purpose on this solid ground. I did not know the sea would rise and swell, With waves of blood, a terrifying hell.

Escape is hard from eyes that watch so well

Ambushed by beauty's arrow and its spell. From every corner, danger lies in wait, A bow is drawn by an unrelenting fate.

When she unbinds her tresses to the air

Scents of the lovers' grief are hidden there. She tells the breeze to keep our secret true, And hide the love that grows between us two.

Pour wine upon the earth and listen deep

To tales the dust of ancient kings does keep. Of Jamshid and Kay Khosrow, stories grand, Are whispered by the atoms of the sand.

O nightingale, if the rose smiles at thee

Do not be snared by its bright treachery. For though it holds the beauty of the world, Its trust is fickle, and its petals furled.

O Marshal, take my justice from her hand

Who breaks the laws of this fair gathering's land. She drinks with others, laughing in her glee, But turns a heavy, sullen head to me.

If you must bind me, do it quick and fast

Let not this torture of delaying last. For in delay, a thousand dangers lie, And in the waiting, hopeful lovers die.

Do not deprive me of your cypress form

My shelter in the chaos and the storm. Show me the fountain of your grace and truth, The living water of eternal youth.

Secure me from the fear of being apart

If you have mercy in your noble heart. May God protect you from the evil eye, And keep you safe beneath the azure sky.

What excuse can my poor fortune give?

For this city-disturber makes me live and die. She kills Hafez with bitterness and pain, While sugar in her mouth does still remain.