Last night, pansy addressed flowers and itself displayed
My swinging in this world, so and so's hair would braid.
My heart was a treasure chest of secrets, the hands of fate
Closed and locked and its key, to my Beloved bade.
Physician sent the broken me to my Beloved and said
My panacea and cure, only by Your hands are made.
May he be healthy, and happy, and in bliss
That his healing hands upon the needy laid.
Take your own advice, O incessant counselor
Sweet lover and wine, whosoever forbade?
Passed by poor me, and towards my rivals strayed
Said, "my poor Hafiz has given his life, I am afraid."

Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
January 23, 2000

بنفشه دوش به گل گفت و خوش نشانی داد
کـه تاب مـن بـه جهان طره فـلانی داد
دلـم خزانـه اسرار بود و دسـت قـضا
درش ببسـت و کلیدش به دلسـتانی داد
شکسـتـه وار به درگاهت آمدم که طبیب
بـه مومیایی لـطـف توام نـشانی داد
تنش درست و دلش شاد باد و خاطر خوش
کـه دسـت دادش و یاری ناتوانی داد
برو مـعالـجـه خود کـن ای نصیحتـگو
شراب و شاهد شیرین کـه را زیانی داد
گذشـت بر من مسکین و با رقیبان گفـت
دریغ حافـظ مسـکین من چـه جانی داد

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