Last night I saw the angels tapping at the wine-shop’s door, And kneading Adam’s dust, and molding it as cups for wine;

And, where I sat beside the road, these messengers of heaven gave me their wine to drink, so that their drunkenness was mine.

The heavens could not bearthe heavy trust they had been given, And lots were cast, and crazed Hafez’s name received the sign.

Forgive the seventy-two competing factions – all their tales; Mean that the Truth is what they haven’t seen, and can’t define!

But I am thankful that there’s peace between Him now, and me; In celebration of our pact the hour is drink their wine.

And fire is not what gently smiles from candles’ flames, it’s what Annihilates the flocking moths that flutter round His shrine.

No one has drawn aside the veil of Thought as Hafez has,Or combed the curls of Speech as his sharp pen has, line by line.  Hafez