Poem #365

A lifetime we have turned our face to the path of grief for you

and cast aside the mask of the world, and all that people do.

The college arch, the learned talk, the scholar's pedant air

all these we've left for the wine-cup's rim and the moon-faced bearer fair.

We gave our soul to the magic of your narcissus eyes so deep

and in your dark and hyacinth curls, we laid our heart to sleep.

A lifetime passed in waiting for a single sign of grace

while we fixed our eyes on the arches of your eyebrow's lovely space.

We did not conquer the realm of peace with armies or with might

nor did we build a throne of power by strength of arm in fight.

Who knows what game the Friend's magic eye will play with us today

for we have built our house upon her glance's shifting sway.

Deprived of your rebellious curls, our heads are bowed with woe

like violets, we rest our heads upon our knees, so low.

In the corner of hope, like those who watch for the crescent moon's new light

we fix our eyes on the curve of your brow, all through the night.

You asked, 'O Hafez, where is your heart, so lost and gone astray?'

We left it in the curling rings of your dark tress to stay.