Poem #305

In rose-time I repented wine, and now I feel the shame;

May no one else be humbled by a foolish, hasty name.

Our piety is but a trap, a snare upon the way;

I face the Cupbearer and Love, with nothing left to say.

Perhaps the Friend, with noble heart, will not in anger turn;

We weary of the questions, and from answers, shame we learn.

Last night the blood-tears flowed, a river from my eyes;

Before the sleepers of the world, my shame in silence lies.

The drunken narcissus bows low its heavy head;

Shamed by your reproaching eyes, its vanity is dead.

You are fairer than the sun, and God be praised for this:

That in the sun's bright face, I feel no shame or miss.

The Water of Life hid in the dark, in deep disgrace;

Shamed by Hafez's flowing verse, it dared not show its face.