“What does life give me in the end but sorrow?
What do love's good and evil send but sorrow?
I've only seen one true companion - pain,
And I have known no faithful friend but sorrow.”
― The poet Xāwje Shams-od-Dīn Moḥammad Ḥāfeẓ-e Shīrāzī, a quote from The Nightingales Are Drunk
Every one utters his hollow disbelief
At the cascading fall of hard-won cities;
Why the hyperbolic surprise?
How many generations have watched as
Myriad men, sans mercy, trample upon
All hope of resurrecting dignity?
Could resisting have lost its absurd appeal,
Abject amid planetary surrender to plague?
The West may well belittle Pashto whispers
Seeking their long-lost, Hafezian calm
Before ignorant infadels came to remain.
Changing your masks throughout agony's aeons
Of attendance at the torrid Winners Ball
You invaders who strive to strip precious jewels
From the veiled wrists of Kabul widows
Your ambitions borne by serial aquilifers
Will not afford you triumph in elusive Khorasan.
Gigi Bousquet-Williamson
