now is the time to know
that all that you do is sacred.

now, why not consider
a lasting truce with yourself and God.

now is the time to understand
that all your ideas of right and wrong
were just a child's training wheels
to be laid aside
when you can finally live
with veracity
and love.

Hafiz is a divine envoy 
whom the Beloved
has written a holy message upon.

my dear, please tell me,
why do you still
throw sticks at your heart
and God?

what is it in that sweet voice inside
that incites you to fear?

now is the time for the world to know
that every thought and action is sacred.

this is the time
for you to deeply compute the impossibility
that there is anything
but Grace.

now is the season to know
that everything you do
is sacred.

the small man
builds cages for everyone
he 
knows.

while the sage,
who has to duck his head
when the moon is low,
keeps dropping keys all night long
for the 
beautiful
rowdy
prisoners.

God 
and I have become
like two giant fat people
living in a 
tiny boat.

we keep bumping into each other


laughing.

when 
the words stop
and you can endure the silence

that reveals your heart's
pain

of emptiness
or that great wrenching-sweet longing,

that is the time to try and listen
to what the Beloved's
eyes

most want 
to 
say

there is
a madman inside of you
who is always running for office--
why vote him in,
for he never keeps the accounts straight.
he gets all kinds of crooked deals
happening all over town
that will just give you a big
headache
and glue to your kisser
a gigantic
confused
frown

friends do things like this:
tell which mat their house key is
hidden under.

Hafiz, jump over, cut right through
all the small talk today:

Look beneath the right-hand corner
of that Kirman behind 
the barn

where my sweet dog is usually
sleeping (don't worry,
she won't bite)

for you would not believe
the extraordinary view 
of God

From my bedroom
window.

how 
do i
listen to others?
as if everyone were my Master
speaking to me
his 
cherished 
last
words

noise 
is a cruel ruler

who is always imposing 
curfews,

while 
stillness and silence
break open the vintage 
bottles

and awake the real
band.

last 
night
God 
posted
on the Tavern wall

a hard decree for all of love's inmates

which read:

if your heart cannot find a joyful work

the jaws of this world
will probably

grab hold of your

sweet

ass.

if God 
invited you to a party
and said,

"everyone
in the ballroom tonight
will be my special
Guest"

how would you then treat them 
when you
arrived?

Indeed, indeed!

And Hafiz knows
there is no one in this world

who is not upon
His jeweled dance 
floor

all poems by Hafiz, translations by Daniel Ladinsky