The corner of the tavern is my altar, where I pray
At dawn, the mantra of the Old Magi, I say.
Fear not if the harp plays not at sun’s morning ascent
My morning cry of repentance is the music I play.
Thank God, free from beggars and kings, away, I stay;
Homage, to the beggar at the door of the Beloved, I pay.
For Thee, in the mosque and the tavern, my time, I spent;
By God, from this intent, I never ran nor walked astray.
Only, Angel of Death’s blade can uproot my tent
Running from love and grace has never been my way.
From the time that I made my search for Thee my intent
I lean upon the throne on which the sun may lay.
Not your fault was the sins that were put into your clay
Nonetheless accept them, Hafiz, and good taste display.