remember- that when my house was on your street,
the eye was made bright by the dust at your door.
true like the lily and rose, the result of pure company,
everything that was in your heart, was on my tongue.
while the heart was receiving truths from the wise elder,
love was explaining what for the heart was so difficult:
“in my heart, i never wish to be without the friend.
what can be done, when all my striving is useless?”
last night i went to the tavern remembering cronies.
the wine made my heart pound, then my head hit mud.
much have i wandered and asked about separations’s pain-
the mofti buried his head in this matter, but couldn’t find it!
to be sure, the royal turquoise ring of abu ishaq
flashed brillantly, but his reign ended quickly.
hafez, did you see the clucking and strutting partridge
who was so careless of the eagle’s claw of fate?
notes: mofti= cleric with judicial authority. abu ishaq= hafez’s
patron who dallied until captured and executed.
