Poem #175

The morning breeze to congratulate the Elder came

For joy and wine and coquetry are now the season's name.

The air is Christ-like breath, the breeze unlocks the musk

The trees turn green, the birds sing out from dawn to dusk.

The spring breeze lit the tulip's oven with such fire

The bud drowned in its sweat, the rose boiled with desire.

Listen with wisdom's ear, and strive for pleasure's prize

For this word came at dawn from where the unseen lies.

Return from thoughts of scattering, be whole and one

By that decree: when demons flee, the angels run.

I know not what the lily heard from the bird of morn

That with ten tongues, it stands silent and forlorn.

This intimate assembly is no place for strangers' eyes

Cover the cup, the cloak-wearer comes in disguise.

From monastery to the tavern Hafez goes his way

Perhaps from hypocrisy's drunk stupor, he wakes today.