Tomb of Hafiz in Iran (Photo: Emily O'Dell)
Tomb of Hafiz (Photo by Emily O'Dell)
The subject tonight is Love
And for tomorrow night as well.
As a matter of fact,
I know of no better topic
For us to discuss–
Until we all die!
Today, I’m reading the Sufi poetry of Hafiz, and remembering my visit to his tomb in Shiraz. How I placed my hands on the marble slab over his grave–engraved with nastaliq ghazals:
The dust of my body has covered the face of my soil.
It will be a happy moment when I uncover that face.
Next to me, a little girl sat on his smooth stone, and laughed–while her mother kissed his chiseled epitaph.
I have never seen any poetry sweeter than yours, O Hafiz.
I swear it by that Qur’an which you keep in your heart.
Through that garden embellished with orange trees and Persian verse, I wandered–his mystic madness breezing past me from speakers circling his grave. The sly rectangular pool displayed with pride its prey–the moon. His dome–a copper canopy in the shape of a dervish’s hat–shone mosaic polychrome stars above his final sleeping stone. And everyone there, from their hands or from their heart, was reciting one of his poems…
One regret, dear world,
That I am determined not to have
When I am lying on my deathbed
Is that
I did not kiss you enough.
— Hafiz
