These days the only flawless friends I have
are a book of lyric verse and the wine in my flask.
Travel alone, for the pass to salvation is narrow;
and seize the glass, for dear life has no going back.
Not I alone in the world am beset by inaction.
Theologians ache, too, from theories minus acts.
In this havoc-racked way, the eye of reason knows
that the world and its handiwork are not to last.
My heart held out high hope of reunion with you
but on life's highway, death is hope's highwayman.
Catch hold of a beauty's curls! Spread not the myth
that "the fault is in the stars and out of your hands."
In no age will you find our hafiz sober. He's out
Drunk on the wine of the time ere times began.