Well done O messenger, bring a message from my friend
Willingly I’ll give my own life for the sake of my friend.
Like a nightingale in cage, being love-sick is my trend
A singing parrot in love with nuts and sweets of my friend.
My trap is her hair, her mole is the seed, and I
In search of those seeds have been trapped by my friend.
Will remain always drunk, until resurrection is nigh
Whoever, like me, drank from the cup poured by my friend.
I will speak no more of my elation, I trust
Focusing on me diverts me from my friend.
I’d use as eye-liner, if I could, the very dust
Upon which, once or twice walked my friend.
I long for union, while my friend away will turn,
I give up my desires to fulfill those of my friend.
In this your incurable fever, Hafiz, calmly burn
None can heal the pain of longing, my friend.
© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
January 8, 2000