Ghazal 359

Blessed that day when I leave this ruined way-station —

I will seek the comfort of the soul and go after the beloved.

Though I know a stranger's path leads nowhere —

I will go following the scent of those disordered tresses.

My heart has grown weary of the terror of Alexander's prison —

I will pack my belongings and go to the realm of Solomon.

Like the breeze, with my sick body and my impatient heart,

I will go in devotion to that swaying cypress.

On her path, like the pen, if I must go on my head,

I will go with a wounded heart and weeping eyes.

I have made a vow: if one day I emerge from this grief,

I will go happy and ghazal-singing to the tavern's door.

In devotion to her, like a mote, dancing,

I will go to the lip of the spring of the shining sun.

The swift riders have no care for the heavy-laden —

O pious ones, help me, that I may go easy and well.

And if like Hafez I cannot find my way out of the desert,

I will go as companion to the retinue of the Asaf of the age.