92 Marbles
Pictures of Lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of Lily helped me sleep at night
Pictures of Lily solved my childhood problems
Pictures of Lily helped me feel alright
The Who, “Pictures of Lily”
I first read the poet Hafiz a few years ago when a co-worker brought in a collection of his poems and left them on the staff table. I picked it up and started flipping through the pages. Then I fell in love. I’m not sure exactly which poem hooked me. Maybe it was:
The God Who Only Knows Four Words
Every
Child
Has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of dont's,
Not the God who ever does
Anything weird,
But the God who only knows four words
And keeps repeating them, saying:
"Come dance with Me."
Come
Dance.
Or maybe it was these words:
The
Difference
Between a good artist
And a great one
Is:
The novice
Will often lay down his tool
Or brush
Then pick up an invisible club
On the mind's table
And helplessly smash the easels and
Jade.
Whereas the vintage man
No longer hurts himself or anyone
And keeps on Sculpting
Light.
But what sealed my crush was definitely:
The Gift
Our
Union is like this:
You feel cold
So I reach for a blanket to cover
Our shivering feet.
A hunger comes into your body
So I run to my garden
And start digging potatoes.
You ask for a few words of comfort and guidance,
I quickly kneel at your side offering you
This whole book-
As a gift.
You ache with loneliness one night
So much you weep
And I say,
Here's a rope,
Tie it around me,
Hafiz
Will be your companion
For life.
Who was this man and where could I find him? Then I looked at the introduction, only to find that Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz died circa 1389. So I’m 650 years too late? Sigh.
Cue the song Pictures of Lily. The old song by The Who tells a story of a boy whose father gave him the photos of Lily to help him sleep at night. In time, the boy fell in love with Lily only to find out she died in 1929. He cried that night, lamenting, “If only I'd been born in Lily's time, it would have been alright.” I feel for you, brother.
So I’m left with a yearning for a man (or a woman) who is alive in my lifetime, and who, like Hafiz, is filled with light and sees through the eyes of love. In the meantime, I’ll lull myself to sleep with the poet’s words…
God Just Came Near
No
One
In need of love
Can sit with my verse for
An hour
And then walk away without carrying
Golden tools,
And feeling that God
Just came
Near.
Do you have a favorite poet? If not, what would it take to find a poet that speaks to you?
Pictures of Lily made my life so wonderful
Pictures of Lily helped me sleep at night
Pictures of Lily solved my childhood problems
Pictures of Lily helped me feel alright
The Who, “Pictures of Lily”
I first read the poet Hafiz a few years ago when a co-worker brought in a collection of his poems and left them on the staff table. I picked it up and started flipping through the pages. Then I fell in love. I’m not sure exactly which poem hooked me. Maybe it was:
The God Who Only Knows Four Words
Every
Child
Has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of dont's,
Not the God who ever does
Anything weird,
But the God who only knows four words
And keeps repeating them, saying:
"Come dance with Me."
Come
Dance.
Or maybe it was these words:
The
Difference
Between a good artist
And a great one
Is:
The novice
Will often lay down his tool
Or brush
Then pick up an invisible club
On the mind's table
And helplessly smash the easels and
Jade.
Whereas the vintage man
No longer hurts himself or anyone
And keeps on Sculpting
Light.
But what sealed my crush was definitely:
The Gift
Our
Union is like this:
You feel cold
So I reach for a blanket to cover
Our shivering feet.
A hunger comes into your body
So I run to my garden
And start digging potatoes.
You ask for a few words of comfort and guidance,
I quickly kneel at your side offering you
This whole book-
As a gift.
You ache with loneliness one night
So much you weep
And I say,
Here's a rope,
Tie it around me,
Hafiz
Will be your companion
For life.
Who was this man and where could I find him? Then I looked at the introduction, only to find that Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz died circa 1389. So I’m 650 years too late? Sigh.
Cue the song Pictures of Lily. The old song by The Who tells a story of a boy whose father gave him the photos of Lily to help him sleep at night. In time, the boy fell in love with Lily only to find out she died in 1929. He cried that night, lamenting, “If only I'd been born in Lily's time, it would have been alright.” I feel for you, brother.
So I’m left with a yearning for a man (or a woman) who is alive in my lifetime, and who, like Hafiz, is filled with light and sees through the eyes of love. In the meantime, I’ll lull myself to sleep with the poet’s words…
God Just Came Near
No
One
In need of love
Can sit with my verse for
An hour
And then walk away without carrying
Golden tools,
And feeling that God
Just came
Near.
Do you have a favorite poet? If not, what would it take to find a poet that speaks to you?
PS A shout out to Daniel Ladinsky for his amazing translations of the ancient originals.
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