At dawn

At dawn, to the garden, to inhale the perfume of the rose
Like the nightingale loudly exhale the cure of my head and nose.
I was watching the beautiful unfolding of the rose
Like a light, the secrets of the night disclose.
Proudly its own youth and beauty would transpose
Its songs, the nightingale to the peaceful rose owes.
Jealous tear of the narcissus ceaselessly flows
The tulip submits itself to the heart’s throws.
The lily’s sharp and reproachful tongue grows,
The rebellious poppy would loudly oppose.
One, in worship of the wine, to the jug, goes on tip-toes
One, the drunk bearer, cup in hand, knows with repose.
The one who knows joy, youthfully glows
Hafiz’s is the message the prophets propose.



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