Your heart and my heart

  Are very, very old

  Friends.

  MISMATCHED NEWLYWEDS

  Like

  A pair

  Of mismatched newlyweds,

  One of whom still feels very insecure,

  I keep turning to God

  Saying,

  “Kiss

  Me.”

  YOUR SEED POUCH

  Lanterns

  Hang from the night sky

  So that your eye might draw

  One more image of love upon your silk canvas

  Before sleep.

  Words from Him have reached you

  And tilled a golden field inside.

  When all your desires are distilled

  You will cast just two votes:

  To love more,

  And be happy.

  Take the sounds from the mouth-flute of Hafiz

  And mix them into your seed pouch.

  And when the Moon says,

  “It is time to

  Plant,”

  Why not dance,

  Dance and

  Sing?

  THAT MAGNIFICENT STORM

  Sitting here

  Loving like this

  Alone again

  In God’s valley

  After that magnificent storm

  Of Your presence just

  Passed,

  I am like an elegant cypress

  Whose face and form

  Your beauty

  Ruined.

  Why not

  Accuse You of infidelity

  Or much

  Worse

  When every

  Lover of God in this world

  Would gladly

  Testify

  On

  My

  Behalf.

  THREE

  Removing the Shoe from the Temple

  Once someone asked me,

  “Why do saints seek divine annihilation

  And are often humble

  And like to spend their free time

  Upon their knees?”

  I replied,

  “It is a simple matter of etiquette.”

  Then they said,

  “What do you mean, Hafiz?”

  “Well,” I continued,

  “When ones goes into a mosque or temple

  Is it not common to remove what

  Covers your

  Feet?

  So too does it happen

  With this whole mind and body—

  That is something like a shoe sole—

  When one begins to realize

  Upon Whom you are really standing,

  One begins

  To remove the ‘shoe’ from the

  Temple.”

  AGAINST MY OWN HAND

  You are

  A shy divine deer

  That I cannot cease tracking.

  Though only once of late

  Did I get so close

  To see

  My own face and heart

  Reflected

  In Your wondrous soft eyes.

  Only once of late, Beloved,

  When I thought that I had You

  At last cornered

  Did

  Hafiz

  Come to know

  The sublime beauty of God’s body

  Against my own

  Hand.

  OUT OF THIS MESS

  Pray

  To be humble

  So that God does not

  Have to appear to be so stingy.

  O pray to be honest,

  Strong,

  Kind,

  And pure,

  So that the Beloved is never miscast

  As a cruel great miser.

  I know you have a hundred complex cases

  Against God in court,

  But never mind, wayfarer,

  Let’s just get out of this mess

  And pray to be loving and humble

  So that the Friend will be forced to reveal

  Himself

  So

  Near!

  IF GOD INVITED YOU TO A PARTY

  If God

  Invited you to a party

  And said,

  “Everyone

  In the ballroom tonight

  Will be my special

  Guest,”

  How would you then treat them

  When you

  Arrived?

  Indeed, indeed!

  And Hafiz knows

  There is no one in this world

  Who

  Is not upon

  His Jeweled Dance

  Floor.

  TO BUILD A SWING

  You carry

  All the ingredients

  To turn your life into a nightmare—

  Don’t mix them!

  You have all the genius

  To build a swing in your backyard

  For God.

  That sounds

  Like a hell of a lot more fun.

  Let’s start laughing, drawing blueprints,

  Gathering our talented friends.

  I will help you

  With my divine lyre and drum.

  Hafiz

  Will sing a thousand words

  You can take into your hands,

  Like golden saws,

  Silver hammers,

  Polished teakwood,

  Strong silk rope.

  You carry all the ingredients

  To turn your existence into joy,

  Mix them, mix

  Them!

  A CRYSTAL RIM

  The

  Earth

  Lifts its glass to the sun

  And light—light

  Is poured.

  A bird

  Comes and sits on a crystal rim

  And from my forest cave I

  Hear singing,

  So I run to the edge of existence

  And join my soul in love.

  I lift my heart to God

  And grace is poured.

  An emerald bird rises from inside me

  And now sits

  Upon the Beloved’s

  Glass.

  I have left that dark cave forever.

  My body has blended with His.

  I lay my wing

  As a bridge to you

  So that you can join us

  Singing.

  THIS ONE IS MINE

  Someone put

  You on a slave block

  And the unreal bought

  You.

  Now I keep coming to your owner

  Saying,

  “This one is mine.”

  You often overhear us talking

  And this can make your heart leap

  With excitement.

  Don’t worry,

  I will not let sadness

  Possess you.

  I will gladly borrow all the gold

  I need

  To get you

  Back.

  CURFEWS

  Noise

  Is a cruel ruler

  Who is always imposing

  Curfews,

  While

  Stillness and quiet

  Break open the vintage

  Bottles,

  Awake the real

  Band.

  THE EAR THAT WAS SOLD TO A FISH

  It is true.

  I once had an ear that got sold to a fish.

  Lean back: I will be glad to tell you all about

  How it happened,

  But first I must digress a bit,

  Perhaps way beyond any logical sequence

  Of events

  We may ever again piece together.

  Let’s see,

  We could start anywhere,

  With any word,

  In this fertile luminous world in which I live.

  What is the first letter of your alphabet?

  A,

  O—

  That will be just fine.

  Art is the conversation between lovers.

  Art offers an opening for the heart.

  True art makes the divine silence in the soul

  Break into applause.

  Art is, at last, the knowledge of

  Where we are standing—

  Where we are standing

  In this Wonderland

  When we rip off all our clothes

  And this blind man’s patch, veil,

  That got tied across our brow.

  We are partners straddling the universe.

  Someone inside of us

  Has one foot

  Upon each resplendent pole.

  Someone inside of us is now kissing

  The hand of God

  And wants to share with us

  That grand news.

  You will find yourself knee-deep in ecstasy

  When all your talents to love

  Have reached their heights.

  Hafiz, time, space, and boredom

  Are just passing fads.

  All your pain, worry, sorrow

  Will someday apologize and confess

  They were a great lie.

  Let’s see,

  O yes,

  Look how we got distracted,

  “Beyond logical events.”

  I remember we were talking about:

  The Ear That Got Sold to a Fish.

  It is true

  The moon once put a price

  Upon my head.

  And then hired a gang of

  Young thugs.

  It seems the Beloved felt

  I had been telling too many secrets,

  Giving too much of His precious wine

  Away for free.

  So I got called before a fat burly judge.

  But I pleaded my own case well.

  I said,

  “It is all the fault of prayer,

  It has filled me with divine treasures

  That I love to loosely spend.”

  So,

  I bought a ticket for my eye

  Upon that White Sky Bird

  That never touches ground,

  And I bribed an ancient deep-sea fish

  To buy my ear and drown.

  Now whenever the Beloved whispers

  Or even slightly moves

  I get a scouting report

  That a thousand saints could envy

  And would pawn their hearts to know.

  Hafiz has become

  One of the greatest spies upon God

  This world has ever seen.

  That is why the moon once got rough.

  That is why that fat burly judge

  Once crowded all of heaven into a small jury box.

  God knowingly did risk my case becoming famous

  If I won.

  I think He really wanted my name

  To spread forever wide.

  Have you ever contemplated the thought

  As I once did,

  That the Beloved already knew, already knew,

  Everything long before,

  So long before we were ever born.

  But now to end this drunken song

  With its essence in refrain:

  Art is the conversation between lovers.

  True art awakes the

  Extraordinary

  Ovation.

  AN INFANT IN YOUR ARMS

  The tide of my love

  Has risen so high let me flood over

  You.

  Close your eyes for a moment

  And maybe all your fears and fantasies

  Will end.

  If that happened

  God would become an infant in your

  Arms

  And then you

  Would have to nurse all

  Creation!

  FOUR

  I Hold the Lion’s Paw

  I hold the Lion’s Paw

  Whenever I dance.

  I know the ecstasy of the falcon’s wings

  When they make love against the sky,

  And the sun and moon

  Sometimes argue over

  Who will tuck me in at night.

  If you think I am having more fun

  Than anyone on this planet

  You are absolutely correct.

  But Hafiz

  Is willing to share all his secrets

  About how to befriend God.

  Indeed, dear ones,

  Hafiz is so very willing

  To share all his secrets

  About how to know the

  Beautiful

  One.

  I hold the Lion’s Paw whenever I dance.

  I know the ecstasy of your heart’s wings

  When they make love against the Sky,

  And the sun and moon

  Will someday argue over

  Who will tuck you in at

  Night!

  IF THE FALLING OF A HOOF

  If the falling of a hoof

  Ever rings the temple bells,

  If a lonely man’s final scream

  Before he hangs himself

  And the nightingale’s perfect lyric

  Of happiness

  All become an equal cause to dance,

  Then the Sun has at last parted

  Its curtain before you—

  God has stopped playing child’s games

  With your mind

  And dragged you backstage by

  The hair,

  Shown to you the only possible

  Reason

  For this bizarre and spectacular

  Existence.

  Go running through the streets

  Creating divine chaos,

  Make everyone and yourself ecstatically mad

  For the Friend’s beautiful open arms.

  Go running through this world

  Giving love, giving love,

  If the falling of a hoof upon this earth

  Ever rings the

  Temple

  Bell.

  WHAT THE HELL

  The

  Real love

  I always keep a secret.

  All my words

  Are sung outside Her window,

  For when She lets me in

  I take a thousand oaths of silence.

  But,

  Then She says,

  O, then God says,

  “What the hell, Hafiz,

  Why not give the whole world

  My

  Address.”

  SOMEONE UNTIED YOUR CAMEL

  I cannot sit still with my countrymen in chains.

  I cannot act mute

  Hearing the world’s loneliness

  Crying near the Beloved’s heart.

  My love for God is such

  That I could dance with Him tonight without you,

  But I would rather have you there.

  Is your caravan lost?

  It is,

  If you no longer weep from gratitude or happiness,

  Or weep

  From being cut deep with the awareness

  Of the extraordinary beauty

  That emanates from the most simple act

  And common object.

  My dear, is your caravan lost?

  It is if you can no longer be kind to yourself

  And loving to those who must live

 

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