Ghazal 483

At dawn, a wayfarer in a land

was saying this riddle to a companion:

O Sufi, wine becomes clear only then

when it passes forty days in the bottle.

God is a hundred times repelled by that cloak

that has a hundred idols in its sleeve.

Though generosity is a name without a sign,

present a need before a graceful one.

You shall have merit, O lord of the harvest,

if you show mercy to a gleaner.

I do not see the joy of pleasure in anyone —

neither a heart's remedy, nor the pain of faith.

Hearts have become dark — perhaps from the unseen

a recluse will kindle a lamp.

If there is no finger of Solomon,

what virtue does the design of a ring give?

Though the custom of beauties is harshness,

what if one should make peace with a grief-stricken one?

Show me the way to the tavern, that I may ask

my fate from one who foresees.

Neither does Hafez have the presence of the lesson of solitude,

nor does the scholar have the knowledge of certainty.