Poem #373

Arise! Let's take the Sufi cloak to where the drunkards dwell

and drag our mystic, hollow talk to fable's market-sell.

To join the wild Qalandar band, we'll take for travel's gear

the prayer-rug and the saintly cloak, and leave them without fear.

Till all the pious recluses drink morning wine with glee

we'll bring the dawn's awakening harp to wake their sanctity.

The covenant we made with You in Safety's Vale of old

like Moses we shall carry now to the Meeting place foretold.

We'll strike the drum of Your great name upon the Throne of Might

and plant the banner of Your love on Heaven's highest height.

Tomorrow on the Judgment Plain, we'll bear upon our head

the dust of Your beloved street, with pride and joy widespread.

And if the Ascetic strews our path with thorns of sharp abuse

we'll send him from his garden fair to Retribution's noose.

Shame on our stained and woolen cloaks, if with such poor pretense

we claim the name of miracle or holy innocence.

If the heart knows not the worth of time, nor works while it is day

great shame shall be the only fruit we carry on our way.

Rebellion rains from this blue roof, this sky of painted lies

rise, let us flee to the tavern's vault, where safety truly lies.

How long shall we be lost within the desert of the Nought?

Let's ask the way, and find the path to Truth that we have sought.

Hafez, spill not your honor's stream at every base man's door

but take your needs to Him who hears the pleadings of the poor.