There was a garden and a valley
With moon-lit scenery
The objects were
the same size as their shadows.
While everyone's eyes were closed,
My eyes were wide open,
Starting at the horizon
And the dear mysteries of night.
There was no sound
Except the sound of the night's secrets,
And the sound of water, soft breezes, crickets,
And the sound of amazing wakefulness
(I was drunk)
I got up
went toward the brook;
What was flowing in the brook?
Or perhaps it was as Hafiz said:
I performed my ablution
With shame and self-abandon
I was drunk, wasted
But it was a dear and sincere moment,
I picked up a leaf,
From the closest walnut tree
My gaze was gone, as far as it could
My prayer-rug was the green-dewed-grass of the garden
My quiblah could be anywhere
A loved-mad drunk
Is talking to you
- I am drunk but I know I exist....
Hey, you who have brought all the thing into being
Do you yourself exist?