The Sun Never Says

Even

After

All this time

The sun never says to the earth,

"You owe

Me."

Look

What happens

With a love like that,

It lights the

Whole Sky.

-- Hafiz, (Khwāje Shams-od-Dīn Moḥammad Ḥāfeẓ-e), (1325-1390) the greatest of Persian poets and Sufi Muslim.

Tripping Over Joy

What is the difference
Between your experience of Existence
And that of a saint?

The saint knows
That the spiritual path
Is a sublime chess game with God

And that the Beloved
Has just made such a Fantastic Move

That the saint is now continually
Tripping over Joy
And bursting out in Laughter
And saying, "I Surrender!"

Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think

You have a thousand serious moves.


-Hafiz (ca 1320-1389), Persian Sufi master and mystic poet, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Ten Thousand Idiots

It is always a danger 

To the aspirant
On the
Path

When one begins 

To believe and 

Act

As if the ten thousand idiots 

Who so long ruled
And lived
Inside

Have all packed their bags 

And skipped town
Or
Died.

-- Hafiz of Shiraz (1310-1390), Sufi, one of the greatest Persian lyric poets

Saints Bowing in the Mountains

Do you know how beautiful you are? 

I think not, my dear.

For as you talk of God,
I see great parades with wildly colorful bands 

Streaming from your mind and heart, 

Carrying wonderful and secret messages
To every corner of this world.

I see saints bowing in the mountains 

Hundreds of miles away
To the wonder of sounds
That break into light

From your most common words.

Speak to me of your mother, 

Your cousins and your friends.

Tell me of squirrels and birds you know. 

Awaken your legion of nightingales - 

Let them soar wild and free in the sky

And begin to sing to God. 

Let's all begin to sing to God!

Do you know how beautiful you are? 

I think not, my dear,

Yet Hafiz
Could set you upon a Stage 

And worship you forever!

--Hafiz of Shiraz (1310-1390), one of the greatest Persian lyric poets

Laughter

What is laughter? 

What is laughter?
It is God waking up! 

O it is God waking up! 

It is the sun poking its sweet head out

From behind a cloud
You have been carrying too long,
Veiling your eyes and heart.

It is Light breaking ground for a great Structure 

That is your Real body- called Truth.

It is happiness applauding itself and then taking flight 

To embrace everyone and everything in this world.

Laughter is the polestar
Held in the sky by our Beloved, 

Who eternally says,

"Yes, dear ones, come this way, 

Come this way toward Me and Love!

Come with your tender mouths moving
And your beautiful tongues conducting songs
And with your movements - your magic movements 

Of hands and feet and glands and cells - Dancing!

Know that to God's Eye,
All movement is a Wondrous Language, 

And Music - such exquisite, wild Music!"

O what is laughter, Hafiz?
What is this precious love and laughter 

Budding in our hearts?

It is the glorious sound 

Of a soul waking up!

--Hafiz of Shiraz (1310-1390), Sufi, and one of the greatest Persian lyric poets

"For Years My Heart Inquired of Me"

Nakalele Blowhole, Maui

For years my heart inquired of me

                   Where Jamshid's sacred cup might be,

And what was in its own possession

                   It asked from strangers, constantly;

Begging the pearl that's slipped its shell

                   From lost souls wandering by the sea.

Last night I took my troubles to

                   The Magian sage whose keen eyes see

A hundred answers in the wine

                   Whose cup he, laughing, showed to me.

I questioned him, "When was this cup

                   That shows the world's reality

Handed to you?" He said, "The day

                   Heaven's vault of lapis lazuli

Was raised, and marvelous things took place

                   By Intellect's divine decree,

And Moses' miracles were made

                   And Sameri's apostasy."

He added then, "That friend they hanged   

                   High on the looming gallows tree—

His sin was that he spoke of things

                   Which should be pondered secretly,

The page of truth his heart enclosed

                   Was annotated publicly.

But if the Holy Ghost once more

                   Should lend his aid to us we'd see

Others perform what Jesus did—

                   Since in his heartsick anguish he

Was unaware that God was there

                   And called His name out ceaselessly."

I asked him next, "And beauties' curls

                   That tumble down so sinuously,

What is their meaning? Whence do they come?"

                   "Hafez," the sage replied to me,

"It's your distracted, lovelorn heart

                   That asks these questions constantly."

--Hafiz of Shiraz (1310-1390), one of the greatest Persian lyric poets, translated by Dick Davis

Power is Safest in the Poet's Hands

Power is safest in the poet's hands, thus for the poet

God will

pose.

The realms of thought, sublimely wild, the finest pigments of

ground suns, the violin's divine plea for a 

true friend;

what is all this world has seen from art: the shadow more true and

glorious there

than in the cage where there is often talk of right and wrong.

The reins of God say to his lover,

"Hold me in your mouth, dear,

as you toil with all your limbs and strength

to free the magnificence

in man."

The reins of the Sky sing,

"Grab hold, and you will know God

lowers His cup into you

to drink."

--Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz (ca 1320-1389), Persian mystic poet, from Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West, Daniel Ladinsky, ed.