The small man
Builds cages for everyone
He
Knows.
While the sage,
Who has to duck his head
When the moon is low,
Keeps dropping keys all night long
For the
Beautiful
Rowdy
Prisoners.
– Hafiz
Postscript:
This is a poem whose imagery survives translation, transcends language. I came across this via Chris Guillebeau at the Art of Non-Conformity.
More about Hafiz here.
Tagged: Hafiz, imagery, philosophy, translation