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For years my heart had been searching for Jamshid's magic cup
Inquiring of strangers for its own perquisite;

Demanding from beachcombers on the ocean's fringe
A pearl which is outside the oyster of Space and Time.

Last night I took my perplexities to the Old Magian,
Who had the insight to deal with mysteries.

I found him merry and laughing, a wine cup in his hand,
Enjoying the panorama reflected in its depths.

I said, "When did the Wise One give you this cosmic tankard?"
He answered, "When He enameled the vault of the sky.

"Poor sufferer -- and God was with him all the time --
Who know Him not, and deified remoteness.

"The juggling with the Selfhood -- the Samaritan warlock
Faking the wonders of Moses' rod, and his white hand."

He said, "Our friend who ended on the gallows --
His only crime was this -- blabbing of secrets.

"But if God's holy Angel would deign once more his grace,
Others might do the wonders the Messiah worked."

I asked, "Why has my Love this strand of hair to bind me?"
"It is your lovesick heart, Hafez, frets at that chain."

-- Hafez, (1326(?)-1389), translated from the Persian by Peter Avery and John Heath-Stubbs