Poem #431

I kiss her ruby lip and sip the wine in sweet embrace,

And to the Fountain of eternal Life I find the trace.

I cannot tell her secret mystery to any ear,

Nor can I see another soul beside her, close and near.

The cup kisses her lip and drinks her blood in red desire,

It sees her face, and like a rose, its cheek blooms with fire.

Bring wine, and let the memory of Jamshid fade away,

For who knows now where Jamshid is, or where the great Kings lay?

Play on the harp, O Moon-Musician, strike the strings and start!

Touched to the vein, till from the sound I cry out from my heart.

The rose has brought its throne into the garden from the shade,

Roll up the prayer-rug, like a bud, let pious pretense fade.

When her enchanting eye is drunk, leave not the drunk alone,

To memory of her ruby lip, let wine be poured and shown.

My soul seeks not to separate from that fair, lovely mould,

Her cup's red blood runs through my veins, a story to be told.

O Hafez, for a while pull in your tongue and silent be,

And hear from tongueless reeds the tale of Love's own mystery.