At This Party
I don't want to be the only one here
Telling all the secrets —
Filling up all the bowls at this party,
Taking all the laughs.
I would like you
To start putting things on the table
That can also feed the soul
The way I do.
That way
We can invite
A hell of a lot more
Friends.
A Gigantic Ego
The only problem with not castrating
A gigantic ego is
That it will surely become amorous
And father
A hundred screaming ideas and kids
Who will then all quickly grow up
And skillfully proceed
To run up every imagianable debt
And complication of which your brain
Can conceive.
This would concern normal parents
And any seekers of freedom
And the local merchants nearby
As well.
They could very easily become forced
To disturb your peace;
All those worries and bills could turn to
Wailing ghosts.
The only problem with not lassoing
A runaway ego is
You won't have much time to sing
In this sweet
world.
A Gauge Of A Good Poem
The gauge of a good poem is
The size of the love-bruise
It leaves on your neck.
Or,
The size of the love-bruise
It cn leave on your soul.
Or,
The size of the love-bruise
It can leave on your brain.
Or,
It could be all of the
Above.
I Knew We Would Be Friends
As soon as you opened your mouth
And I heard your soft
Sounds,
I knew we would be
Friends.
The first time, dear pilgrim, I heard
You laugh,
I knew it would not take me long
To turn you back into
God.
The Subject Tonight
The subject tonight is love
And for tomorrow night as well.
As a matter of fact,
I know of no better topic
For us to discuss
Until we all
Die!
I Cherish Your Ears
Dear Pilgrim,
I love your shoes, your coat,
Your pants, your hat, your furry head,
Your cup, you bowl,
You messy closets,
And most of all — I cherish your cute ears.
Why? Don't ask!
Just speak what you love about me.
Come closer if you are feeling
A little timid today
Or dense
Because surely you would find something
Very endearing about
Hafiz.
Then
We can pass many years
Talking so silly,
Like two Highly Advanced Aspirants —
Like two Emancipated Holy Vagrants
Who are sharing His Bottle
Of Truth
And feeling so damn good
And Drunk and Free.
I Follow Barefoot
I long for You so much
I follow barefoot Your frozen tracks
That are high in the mountains
That I know are years old.
I long for You so much
I have even begun to travel
Where I have never been before.
Hafiz, there is no one in this world
Who is not looking for God.
Everyone is trudging along
With as much dignity, courage
And grace
As they possibly
Can.
A Suspended Blue Ocean
The sky
Is a suspended blue ocean.
The stars are the fish
That swim.
The planets are the white whales
I sometimes hitch a ride on,
And the sun and all light
Have forever fused themselves
Into my heart and upon
My skin.
There is only one rule
On this Wild Playground,
For every sign Hafiz has ever seen
Reads the same.
They all say,
"Have fun, my dear; my dear, have fun,
In the Beloved's Divine
Game,
O, in the Beloved's
Wonderful
Game."
____________
HAFIZ
The Subject Tonight Is Love
(Pumpkin House 1996)
Seemingly forever, Hafiz (Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz, 1320-1389) has been called "The Tongue of the Invisible" and is the most beloved poet of Persia (Iran). To many Iranians Hafiz is a dear and personal friend speaking to them now.
"The foundation of Hafiz's poetry is rooted in the beautiful human need for companionship as well as in the soul's innate desire for the complete abandonment of all experience except Light."
In many ways, Hafiz is playing music right next to us.
