Poem #418

If swords should rain within the street where dwells that Moon so fair,

We bend our necks before decree—al-hukmu lillah there.

We also know the pious path, the way of purity;

But with a luck so led astray, what hope or remedy?

We know the sheikh and preacher less, their words too cold to warm;

Give us the brimming cup of wine, or let the tale be short.

I am a rake and lover bold while roses bloom and glow;

Repentance now? Astaghfirullah! The answer must be no.

Your love sent not a single ray to light our shadowed part;

O mirror-faced, alas for you, alas your stony heart.

"Patience is bitter, life is short," so ancient verses draw;

"Would that I knew how long until the meeting, ya ilah."

Hafez, why wail if union's light is truly what you crave?

Drink blood in time and timelessness until the path you brave.