Poem LXXVIII
Do not, puritanically disposed ascetic, censure the depraved:
The sin of others will not be recorded against you.
Whether I am good and whether bad, you go and test yourself!
In the end everyone harvests what he has sown.
Everyone, sober or drunk, is in quest of the Friend:
Every place is the house of love, whether mosque or temple.
My head in submission and the brick of the wine-shop's door;
If the disputer doesn't understand this, say, 'Beat your head against the wall.'
Do not make me hopeless of Eternity without Begninng's erstwhile kindness.
What do you know who behind the veil is good and who bad?
Not only have I tumbled out of the secluded abode of piety:
My father also let Paradise slip from his grasp.
If your mind is on all this, fine for the mind!
And if your nature is on all this, good for a good nature!
O Hafiz, if the Day of Doom you raise a cup,
From the street of the tavern go at once straight to Heaven.
trans peter avery
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1 comment:
this is just brilliant. i've read it like, a million times over and over and over and over.
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