Ghazal 170

The reclusive ascetic went to the tavern last night —

he broke his vow and became one with the wine-cup.

The Sufi of the gathering, who yesterday was smashing cup and goblet,

again, with one sip of wine, became wise and learned.

The witness of youth's covenant had come to him in a dream —

again in old age he became a lover and a madman.

A young Magian was passing by, a highway-robber of faith and heart —

in pursuit of that familiar one, he became a stranger to all.

The fire of the rose's face burned the nightingale's harvest —

the candle's laughing face became the ruin of the moth.

The weeping of evening and dawn — thanks be — was not in vain:

our drop of rain became a peerless pearl.

The cupbearer's narcissus eye recited a verse of sorcery —

our circle of litanies became a gathering of tales.

The dwelling of Hafez is now the court of the king —

the heart went to the beloved, the soul went to the soul's desire.