Poem #428

At dawn, still drunk from last night's wine, I took the cup again

With harp and song to chase away the memory of pain.

I gave Reason wine for the road, provisions for the way

And sent it from the city of being, far away to stray.

My wine-selling Beloved gave a glance of coquetry

And safe I felt from Time's deceit and cruel treachery.

I heard the arched-browed Saki say, in accents soft and low

'O target for the arrows that the critics' bows do throw!'

'Do not gird up your loins to claim a place within this ring

If you still see your self as central to everything.'

'Go set this trap for other birds, not for the eagle high

The Phoenix builds its nest above the reach of such a sky.'

'Who can attain the union with a Beauty royal and free

That plays the game of Love alone, in self-sufficiency?'

'Companion, minstrel, cupbearer—He is the All in All

This form of water and of clay is but a veil, a pall.'

Bring forth the ship of wine that we may sail and sweetly glide

Across this shoreless ocean vast, upon the rolling tide.

Our being is a riddle, Hafez, hard to understand

Attempting to explain it is but writing on the sand.