It is not for memorial’s sake alone
That men hew likenesses of men from stone.
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We have all been faithful to Cynara in our fashion:
To our woman, our work, art, science, play—to each passion.
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When the screen of day was slid aside revealing night’s peacock-eyed tapestry
I took up my post of prayer—remembrance of my Beloved’s courtesy.
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How simple this business of love seemed to us at first!
Wine of kisses and pearls of tears—now blindness and thirst.
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It was my heart and hands that brought me to the wineshop door;
But my head and feet our respectability would restore.
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The whale-way is unending, and the nights on the wide plain are harsh;
But fear sits on affection’s fences and there is much binding in mood’s marsh.
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My grief is so deep and my trouble is so wide that one tear
Has become the five oceans across which the ships of the world steer.
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Even after obtaining residence in Love Street
The journey seems unending—each breath is so indiscreet.
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Now am I also with my face to a wall, Raferty, aplaying music unto empty pockets;
Eyes without light—not blind as you were, but stone of stupor sunken in sockets.
Click here to read the full ghazal #144 and commentary.