Ghazal 380

Many times I have said, and I say it once more:

I, the lost-hearted one, do not walk this road by my own will.

Behind the mirror they have kept me like a parrot —

what the Teacher of Eternity said to say, I say.

Whether I am thorn or rose, there is a garden-arranger

who nurtures me by whatever hand draws me along.

Friends! Do not find fault with me, the heartless, bewildered one —

I have a jewel, and I seek one with a discerning eye.

Though with a patched cloak, rose-colored wine is a fault —

do not fault me, for by it I wash away the color of hypocrisy.

The laughter and weeping of lovers comes from another place —

I sing at night and at the time of dawn I weep.

Hafez said to me: Do not smell the dust of the tavern door —

I say: Do not find fault, for I am smelling the musk of Khutan.