Poems from the Divan of Hafiz · 35 of 77

Ode XXXIII

XXXIII THE jewel of the secret treasury Is still the same as once it was; the seal Upon Love’s treasure casket, and the key, Are still what thieves can neither break nor steal; Still among lovers loyalty is found, And therefore faithful eyes still strew the ground With the same pearls that mine once strewed for thee.

Question the wandering winds and thou shalt know That from the dusk until the dawn doth break, My consolation is that still they blow The perfume of thy curls across my cheek. A dart from thy bent brows has wounded me— Ah, come! my heart still waiteth helplessly, Has waited ever, till thou heal its pain.

If seekers after rubies there were none, Still to the dark mines where the gems had lain Would pierce, as he was wont, the radiant sun, Setting the stones ablaze. Would’st hide the stain Of my heart’s blood? Blood-red the ruby glows (And whence it came my wounded bosom knows) Upon thy lips to show what thou hast done.

Let not thy curls waylay my pilgrim soul, As robbers use, and plunder me no more! Years join dead year, but thine extortionate rule Is still the same, merciless as before. Sing, Hafiz, sing again of eyes that weep! For still the fountain of our tears is deep As once it was, and still with tears is full.