What We Speak

What we speak
Becomes the house we live in.

Who will want to sleep in your bed
If the roof leaks
Right above
It?

Look what happens when the tongue
Cannot say to kindness,

"I will be your slave."

The moon
Covers her face with both hands

And cannot bear

To look.

Forgive the Dream

All your images of winter

I see against your sky.

I understand the wounds

That have not healed in you.

They exist

Because God and love

Have yet to become real enough

To allow you to forgive

The dream.

You still listen to an old alley song

That brings your body pain;

Now chain your ears

To His pacing drum and flute.

Fix your eyes upon

The maginficent arch of His brow

That supports

And allows this universe to expand.

Your hands, feet, and heart are wise

And want to know the warmth

Of a Perfect One's circle.

A true saint

Is an earth in eternal sping.

Inside the veins of a petal

On a blooming redbud tree

Are hidden worlds

Where Hafiz sometimes

Resides.

I will spread

A Persian carpet there

Woven with light.

We can drink wine

From a gourd I hollowed

And dried on the roof of my house.

I will bring bread I have kneaded

That contains my own

Divine genes

And cheese from a calf I raised.

My love for your Master is such

You can just lean back

And I will feed you

This truth:

Your wounds of love can only heal

When you can forgive

This dream.

~ Hafiz from "The Gift" translations by Daniel Ladinsky

Don't forget to forgive the dreamer, too...

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us...

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,

Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and

Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,

He would just drag you around the room

By your hair,

Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world

That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly

And wants to rip to shreds

All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight with yourself, dear one,

And with others,

Causing the world to weep

On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,

Lock us inside a tiny room with Himself

And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants

To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down

And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear

He is in such a "playful drunken mood"

Most everyone I know

Quickly packs their bags and hightails it

Out of town.

~Hafiz