Hafiz & Rumi On Pizza Boxes
My agent is in town after months of being out of the country. She is here to help us move some projects along, and she wanted to see how I was living these days. I warned her my place had pretty much officially entered the Twilight Zone, plus some. But she is still a rather young, hardy lass, and raised on the best Harvard could imbibe and fortify her with.
So she put her boots on, as it were, and waded in. Then she so kindly even started cleaning.
“What about those two big pizza boxes?” she asked… I had them right next to my desk on the floor. “Can't they go to PB heaven?” (Into the trash she meant.)
And I replied, “I have lines of a couple possible poems written on them ... from while drinking a beer (at the pizza & beer garden) and reading some old Victorian Hafiz; some of Gertrude Bell's (19th century) work. And then some new possible Rumi renderings working off the R. A. Nicholson translations in one of those charming Dover Thrift Editions.”
“Well, then write those out, but get those boxes out of your place before a bear or a mouse might come by and carry you all off.”
So here we go, from scattered beer-laden lines, on the first box that once housed a great veggie pizza with extra mushrooms and tomatoes on top. And the title is mine— brand new. And then will get into Rumi on a Part Two to this blog entry. But now—some Hafiz lines rendered:
Existence Waters Everything
That moonlight that fell from your eyes upon this earth and me...
look at all that has grown from it. Like the mountains and the
rivers and the birds.
Look at that song one can sing when they can hold hands with
all forms, and even with any act in this world… knowing your
moonlight made it grow.
Knowing how existence waters everything, everything!
And existence has revealed itself— as now the same as my
Beloved.
Dear, we are divine fruit on a tree God planted in heaven. All
forms and thoughts are ripening us.
All movements play a drum against the soul-body of one who
Knows. And any sounds, any sounds I can enthrone, knowing
what a miracle they really are.
A royal child dancing on her birthday breaks a priceless vase,
and the loving Queen & King not only laugh, but applaud your
every act; though best keep that a secret from most everyone …
for a while.
The moonlight in the eyes of any creature is as vital to life
... as rain.
Looks like the lines I wrote down from Bell’s Hafiz work, and expounded on in a very creative way— in the above— could become a couple Hafiz poems in themselves; and will try and complete those in the future. I will put those pizza boxes out in a storage shed in a big plastic bag. (Don’t tell my agent they are there.)
I’m not sure I could fully pin these next lines on Hafiz, even as a no-holds-barred-rendering, but they, too, were on the pizza box... And in some ways, from having floated around in Hafiz’s wine barrel most every day for over 30 years now, most everything (I think) is somewhat Hafiz connected—laden. Yep!
A Goldfish In A Pond Admits
I don't mind waiting in any lines anymore. Now that Buddha
is revealing himself in front of me wherever I am. And I can
have the darshan of the Mountain.
And those sweet old ladies behind me, can now turn to Buddha
too. So may I place my head upon your feet?
And that sweet young child running around and who just bumped
into me; thanks. Thanks to all— we will all someday come to say.
And any cash register that opens. It is a holy begging bowl, I am
glad to make an offering to.
The sky is a counter, with the sun standing behind it smiling.
A goldfish in a pond admits it is God, so I jump in.
What more could we want, when we really see or hear?
(A rough draft above of some verse— decent starts.) I will do some Rumi in my next post. Here is a line I will expound upon, that again mentions a begging bowl:
The sky was once a begging bowl, held
in the hands of the Invisible, and prayer
filled it with stars, as prayer can fill you
with God.
—Rumi
Always thanks for your time. Hope I can help you— jump in. And we get sprinkled with planets & stars.