Ghazal 428

At dawn, when, hungover from the night,

I took up wine with harp and lute,

I gave reason provisions from wine for the journey

and sent it away from the city of existence.

The wine-selling beauty gave me a coquetry

that made me safe from the deceit of time.

From the bow-browed cupbearer I heard:

O you, the target of the arrow of blame!

You will not gain a share from that waist, belt-like,

if you see yourself in the middle.

Go — lay this trap for another bird —

for the phoenix has a lofty nest.

Who gains a share of union from the beauty of a king

who plays the game of love with herself forever?

The companion, the minstrel, the cupbearer — all is she —

the fancy of water and clay on the road is but a pretext.

Give the ship of wine, that we may sail pleasantly

across this sea of no visible shore.

Our existence is a riddle, O Hafez —

whose investigation is all spell and fable.