I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,
It’s not my fault that with a broken heart, I’ve gone this way.
In front of a mirror they have put me like a parrot,
And behind the mirror the Teacher tells me what to say.
Whether I am perceived as a thorn or a rose, it’s
The Gardener who has fed and nourished me day to day.
O friends, don’t blame me for this broken heart;
Inside me there is a great jewel and it’s to the Jeweler’s shop I go.
Even though, to pious, drinking wine is a sin,
Don’t judge me; I use it as a bleach to wash the color of hypocrisy away.
All that laughing and weeping of lovers must be coming from some other place;
Here, all night I sing with my winecup and then moan for You all day.
If someone were to ask Hafiz, “Why do you spend all your time sitting in
The Winehouse door?,” to this man I would say, “From there, standing,
I can see both the Path and the Way.
From: Drunk on the Wind of the Beloved
Translated by Thomas Rain Crowe