Ghazal 146

At dawn the breeze was bringing the scent of the beloved's tresses —

it was putting our disordered heart to work with that fragrance.

I tore the pine-tree's form from the garden of my sight,

for every flower that bloomed from her grief was bringing a burden of pain.

I saw the moonlight bright from the roof of her palace —

the moon was turning its face in shame to the wall before that sun.

From fear of love's plunder I let go of my blood-filled heart,

but it kept shedding blood and bringing itself by that same path.

At the word of minstrel and cupbearer I went out, now and then,

for from that heavy road the messenger was bringing news with difficulty.

All the beloved's gifts were the way of kindness and grace —

whether she commanded the rosary, or brought the infidel's belt.

God forgive the furrow of her brow — though it made me weak,

with a flirting glance she was still bringing a message to the sick one.

I was amazed last night at Hafez with his cup and goblet —

but I did not forbid him, for he was bringing them in the Sufi manner.