Poem #16

The curve your eyebrow cast into a bow,

was aimed to lay my weary spirit low.

Before the worlds were made, Love's color true,

was painted by Time's hand, in ages new.

The Narcissus winked in vanity and pride;

your Eye's deceit cast tumult far and wide.

Drunk and bedewed, you walk the garden way;

your face sets fire to the blooms of May.

Last night I passed the meadow, drunk with wine;

the small bud made me doubt that mouth of thine.

The Violet was tying up her hair;

the Breeze then spoke of yours, beyond compare.

The Jasmine, shamed that I compared her grace,

threw dust into her mouth, to hide her face.

In piety I shunned the wine and song;

but Love for Magian boys has led me wrong.

Now with red wine I wash my Sufi vest;

one cannot change what Fate has manifest.

Perhaps in ruin Hafez found the key;

for Fate cast him to wine and revelry.

Now shall the world obey my heart's command,

since I am slave to Him who rules the land.