we will lift our hands one night in prayer, and find
a remedy for the grief we suffer apart from you.
our heart has slipped from our hands- friends, help!
bring the doctor with healing herb to make it well.
the root of joy is withered. where is the tavern,
that with water and air we might grow and flourish?
without cause he took offense- struck me with sword, and left-
bring him back, o god, and restore harmony.
in lust’s way our heart became an idol’s temple.
release the arrows of our sighs, and we will take up strife!
seek help from the rend‘s ways o heart, and if not
its a rough go, and may you never make a mistake!
the small bird’s shadow offers little protection-
let us seek the fortunate shade of the huma.
your heart is out of tune, hafez. where is your beautiful speech
that with word and ghazal we can make melody and song!
notes: huma= the bird whose shadow, should it fall on one,
confers fabulous fortune.
