Rose petals let us scatter............

Rose petals let us scatter
And fill the cup with red wine
The firmaments let us shatter
And come with a new design

If sorrow's soldiers incite
To shed lovers' blood tonight
With beloved I will unite
And his foundations malign

Pour the red wine with control
Like rose-water into the bowl
While fragrant breeze will roll
And sweet incense refine

With a harp on display
We ask the players to play
While clapping we sing and say
And dancing, our heads decline

Blow our dust O gentle breeze
And throw at the Master's knees
The Good King has the keys
While we glance at the sign

One boasts & brags with his mind
One weaves talks of idle kind
All the judgment that we find
Let the Judge weigh and define

If Eden is what you need
To the tavern let us speed
The jug of wine let us heed
And Paradise will be thine

Merry songs and fair speech
In Shiraz they do not teach
Another land let us reach
Hafiz, and then we shine

© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,January 13, 2000

Ask not what sorrows for love ...........

Ask not what sorrows for love I endure
Ask not of parting poisons that make me impure.
I have traveled the world and in the end
Ask not what lover I willingly allure.
Longing for a vision, at her door
Ask not of the tears that I pour.
With my own ears I heard her last night
Ask not of her words, harsh yet demure.
Bite not your upper lip and speak not
Ask not what sweet lips I may secure.
In my mendicant state without you
Ask not of my pain and need for a cure.
On the path of Love, Hafiz, lost & unsure
Ask not of his standing, high and pure.

© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,January 23, 2000

O heart, the pain of love burned ..........

O heart, the pain of love burned once again

Beloved departed and drove the lover insane.

O flowers, you played your magic tricks

Alas that the drunk the sober shall reign.

My tears were my friends, since Beloved stayed away

My unkind fate from helping would refrain.

At dawn Beloved's house's bright glow

The lover's wounded heart would strain and pain.

O bearer give me a cup, since the hidden hand that writes

Has plans, access to which nobody can gain.

The artist of firmaments, earth and spheres

Nobody knows what plans it would feign.

Burning love, Hafiz's heart would entertain

Beloved from old times this poor lover has slain.

© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,January 20, 2000