Ghazal 450

It has been an age that you keep us waiting —

you do not keep the devoted ones in the manner of others.

Not a corner-glance of consent has opened toward me —

is this how you keep the honor of the people of vision?

It is best you cover your arm — for, for the sake of beauty,

you keep your hand in the blood of the hearts of the skilled.

Neither the rose was saved from the hand of your grief, nor the nightingale in the garden —

you keep all of them screaming and tearing their garments.

O you who in the patched cloak seek the cash of presence —

how strange that you expect inner sight from the unaware.

Since you are the narcissus of the garden of vision, O eye and lamp —

why do you hold your head heavy upon me, the heart-broken?

The jewel of the Cup of Jam is from a mine of another world —

you hold your desire from the clay of the potters.

O heart, you are the father of experience after all — why then

do you expect love and fidelity from these youths?

Your purse of silver and gold must be emptied completely —

these desires you hold from the silver-bodied ones.

Though debauchery and ruin are our fault, yet

a lover said: You hold us bound to that.

Do not spend the day of health in blame, Hafez —

what expectation do you hold from the passing world?