Poem #37

Come, for Hope's palace stands on trembling ground

bring wine—life's very base is set on passing wind around.

I am the slave of one whose soaring spirit flies

beneath the blue-domed sky from every tint of ties.

How shall I tell you? Drunk last night in tavern's glow

the Angel of the Unseen brought news you’ll never know.

'O lofty-minded falcon of the Lote-Tree's gleam

this corner steeped in grief is not your destined dream.'

From heaven's battlements they whistle your release

I know not why you languish in this snare's caprice.

I offer counsel—hold it close and make it deed

this tale my Path's old guide impressed on me indeed.

Bear not the world's grief nor let my counsel fade

this tender hint of love from wayfarers was made.

Consent to what is given; smooth the furrowed brow

for neither you nor I have had choice's doorway now.

Seek not firm vows from such a world of shaky cast

this hag has been the bride of countless grooms long past.

The Rose bears not a sign of covenant in her smile

so weep, O heart-lorn nightingale—here wailing's worth the while.

Why envy Hafez, you whose verses loosely trod?

The heart's affection and the charm of speech belong to God.