Ghazal 373

Rise, let us take the Sufi's cloak to the tavern —

let us take ecstatic utterances to the market of fantasies.

Toward the qalandar rends, as a travel-gift,

let us take the cloak of Bistam and the prayer-rug of pretensions.

So that all the recluses may take the morning cup,

let us bring the morning harp to the door of the elder of supplications.

The covenant we made with you in the Valley of Safety —

like Moses, saying Show Yourself, let us bring it to the appointed meeting.

We will beat the drum of your honor on the battlement of the Throne —

we will carry the banner of your love to the roof of the heavens.

The dust of your lane, to the plain of Resurrection tomorrow,

we will all carry upon the crown of our heads in boasting.

And if the ascetic places the thorn of blame in our path,

from his garden we will take him to the prison of requital.

Let us be ashamed of our stained woolen cloak —

if with this merit and art we claim the name of miracles.

If the heart does not know the value of time and does nothing,

what shame we will bear from this harvest of our hours.

Sedition rains from this vaulted ceiling — arise,

let us take refuge in the tavern from all calamities.

How long shall we be lost in the desert of annihilation? —

let us ask the road, that perhaps we may find our way to what matters.

Hafez, do not spill the water of your honor at every base one's door —

it is better we take our need to the Judge of needs.