The Garden
by HafizEnglish version by Rober Bly
Original Language Persian/Farsi
The garden is breathing out the air of Paradise today,
Toward me, a friend with a sweet nature, and this wine.
It's all right for the beggar to brag that he is a King today.
His royal tent is a shadow thrown by a cloud; his throne room is a sown field.
This meadow is composing a tale of a spring day in May;
The serious man lets the future go and accepts the cash now.
Do you really believe your enemy will be faithful to you?
The candle the hermit lights goes out in the worldly church.
Make your soul strong then by feeding it the secret wine.
When we have turned to dust, this rotten world will press our dust into bricks.
My life is a black book. But don't rebuke me too much.
No person can ever read the words written on his own forehead.
When Hafez's coffin comes by, it'll be all right to follow behind.
Although he is a captive of sin, he is on his way to the Garden.
 | -- from The Soul is Here for its Own Joy: Sacred Poems from Many Cultures, Edited by Robert Bly |
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