Listen—listen more carefully to what is around
you, right now.
In my world there are the bells from the clanks
of the morning milk drums,
and a wagon wheel outside my window just hit
a bump which turned into an ecstatic chorus
of the Beloved’s Name.
There is the Prayer Call, rising up like the sun
out of the mouths of a thousand birds.
There is an astonishing vastness of movement
and life emanating sound and light from my
folded hands, and my even quieter simple being
My dear, is it true that your mind is sometimes
like a battering ram, running all through the city
shouting so madly inside and out about the ten
thousand things that do not matter?
Hafiz, too, for many years beat his head in
youth and thought himself at a great distance,
far from and armistice with God.
But that is why this scarred old pilgrim has
become such a sweet rare vintage who weeps
and sings for you.
That is why Hafiz will forever in his verse play
his cymbal and call to you.
O listen—listen more carefully to what is inside
of you right now.
In my world all that remains is the wondrous
call to dance and prayer rising up like a thousand
suns … out of the mouth of a single bird.