I HAVE no need for wine:
To me the languorous and magic scent
Breathed by the flowers within the garden, lent
Intoxication that is more divine.
Forgive me then, I pray,
That I no wine in the assembly quaffed,
For I have drunk of a diviner draught,
Its fragrance ever haunts me, night and day.
My heart a bird doth seem
That never joyfully can soar and sing,
For, shut within its cage of sorrowing,
It sees the garden only in a dream.
Shall I not then complain
When every atom of my body cries
Against your tyranny, O cruel skies,
That yield me days so dark and full of pain?
Grant me, O Fate, this boon,
Give me a little day of joy, of spring,
When even in its cage my heart might sing
Glad as a bird: Death comes, thou knowest, soon.
Although I seem so poor,
Pity me not for empty-handedness;
My haughty eagle soul I still possess,
And I have had the courage to endure.
How many, many years
Within the prison walls of lonely grief
Shall I remain and never know relief,
Like Yaqub, blinded by my useless tears?
Though my proud soul
Torn from its saddle low into the dust
May be by cruel hands of fate downthrust,
I know my feet will somehow reach the goal.
As through life’s desert fare
Love’s pilgrims, Makhfi, may it be thy pride
Unto Love’s realm their caravan to guide,
Thy footsteps be the bell to lead it there.