Poem #460

Since Salma settled in Iraq's land

I bear what I bear from her separation's hand.

O camel driver of the Friend's abode, hear my plea

long has been my yearning for your company.

Cast intellect into the Zayandeh River's stream

drink wine to the song of Iraqi youths, a dream.

The spring of life lies in the pasture of your grace

may God protect you, O time of our embrace.

Come, Saki, give me a heavy goblet, I pray

may God give you drink from a full cup this day.

Youth is brought back to my memory, sharp and sweet

by the harp's song and the Saki's dancing feet.

Give the remaining wine, that drunk and glad of heart

I may scatter my remaining life on friends before we part.

My insides turned to blood from not seeing the Friend

alas! Woe to the days of separation without end.

Despise not my tears after you depart

for many a deep sea flows from streamlets' start.

Be united with well-wishers for a breath

prize the chance meetings before death.

Play, O musician, sweet-singing and wise

to Persian verse, let the Iraqi tune rise.

You are a pleasant bride, O daughter of the Vine

but sometimes worthy of divorce, not mine.

It befits the detached Messiah, pure and bright

to make his home with the sun's own light.

Union with friends is not our daily due

read, Hafez, the ghazals of separation, true.