Classic Poem

The bird of my heart is a sacred bird,
whose nest is the throne of God:
sick of its cage of the body,
it is satiated with the things of the world.
If once the bird of the spirit
wingeth its flight from this pit of mire,
it findeth its resting place once more
only at the door of that palace;
And when the bird of my heart flieth upward,
its place is the sidrah-tree;
for know that our falcon reposeth only
on the pinnacle of the throne.
The shadow of good fortune falleth upon the world,
whenever our bird spreadeth
its pinions and feathers over the earth.
In both worlds its station
is only in the loftiest sphere;
its body is from the quarry,
but its soul is confined to no dwelling.
Only the highest heaven
is the sacred bower of our bird;
its drinking-place
is in the rose arbors of the Garden of Paradise.
O Hafiz, thou perplexed one,
when thou breathest a word about Unity,
inscribe Unity with thy reed
on the page of man and spirit.