Even with having some 700 Hafiz poems-renderings in five books with Penguin Random House (those books are shown on my website here), the vast majority of my work with Hafiz is still unpublished, and is some 4,000 poems. Yeah four thousand unpublished ones. I was a busy cowboy for a while, back in my 40s. Seemed Hafiz meteors and comets (poems) were just whizzing everywhere I could lasso.

And some of those poems just seemed too sophisticated for any first publications. Like one enclosed here titled: “Nursing Upon The Breast Of Form.” And isn't that what we do all day?

Yes, isn't the impetus behind our eyes movements, and the movements of our limbs— to extract what nourishment we can, what satisfaction we can, from whatever we look at or move towards, or touch? Seems with that being an undeniable truth we might be kinder to ourselves and to others. As what governs/motivates us, does really every creature.

So here is that Hafiz poem-rendering I did years ago, and refined a bit more now.

                 Nursing Upon The Breast Of Form

              The sun is a breast I nurse upon. And the moon.

              Their light a golden milk, like Her kiss.

               And a giant wild goddess laid down naked in a 

               meadow, and laughing the way she was, tender

               mountains rose from her chest 

               where we can so naturally gaze, and can climb 

               to the heights of our self.

               Tender yes they are, like all the forms of beauty, 

               and our care for each other.

               And the human body. Look my dear, at the myriad 

              hearts and mouths placed there each night needing

a shelter, needing a refuge

               

               from too many names, from too many concerns. 

               The oasis of moist love, heaven on earth can it

               not be?

               We are like the angels, who nurse upon God, the 

               Omnipresent, the best we can, even without our

               wings visible most days, but they are there.

               And the Rose smiles even more when we know 

               there is only Her beautiful cheek to touch, which

               is all Existence.

                —Hafiz 

And then here is a link to nine of my Hafiz poems that I came across for the very first time just a few days ago, posted like this. These are from two of my Hafiz books: The Gift, and I Heard God Laughing. I like a lot some of these pictures that were paired with the verse, and the selection of poems here a whole bunch toooo!