Poem #56

The heart is pitched as love's pavilion for her grace

the eye holds up the mirror to her radiant face.

I who raise no head to either world's command

my neck bows down beneath her favor's heavy hand.

You seek Tuba, we the Beloved's cypress frame

each person's thought reflects their aspiration's aim.

If I am stained, what wonder in this state

the whole world testifies her purity is great.

Who am I to enter that sanctuary's sacred site

where the Breeze guards the curtain of her honor bright?

May my eyes never see without her image there

for this corner is the place where she retreats to prayer.

Every new rose that adorns the garden's bower

draws color and scent from her companionship's power.

Majnun's turn has passed, and now it's ours to bear

each has five days—this is our allotted share.

Love's kingdom and joy's treasure, all I own

spring from the blessing of her aspiration shown.

If I and my heart are sacrificed, no care

the goal between us is her safety we declare.

Look past apparent poverty's disguise

Hafez's breast holds love's great treasure as its prize.