The heart is
The thousand-stringed instrument.
Our sadness and fear come from being
Out of tune with love.
All day long God coaxes my lips
To speak,
So that your tears will not stain
His green dress.
It is not that the Friend is vain,
It is just your life we care about.
Sometimes the Beloved
Takes my pen in hand,
For Hafiz is just a simple man.
The other day the Old One
Wrote on the Tavern wall:
“The heart is
The thousand-stringed instrument
That can only be tuned with
Love.”
On
the way to God
the difficulties feel like
being ground by a millstone,
like night coming at noon,
like lightning through
the clouds.
But
don’t worry!
What must come, comes.
Face everything with love, as
your mind dissolves
in God.
Filling
to fullness is not
as good as stopping
at the right
moment.
Oversharpening
a blade causes its edge to be lost.
Line your home with treasures and you
won’t be able to defend it. Amass possessions,
establish positions, display your pride:
Soon enough disaster drives
you to your
knees.
This is the
way of heaven:
do your work, then
quietly step
back.
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Hua hu Ching, and Art of War for
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What’s
the need to bow
and pray, to beg for long life?
Clearly the original spirit is pure.
Shatter space to become free, and
wishing jewels and relics are
all empty names.
go with your love to the fields
People of the Way
are quiet and still, within
and without.
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Wei wu Wei Ching as part of a
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