I’m in the mood for some poetry. You? Let’s try Hafiz. A persian poet who left an impression on some of the greatest Western writers like Thoreau, Geothe, and Emerson. This particular poem was translated by Daniel Ladinsky.
WITH THAT MOON LANGUAGE
Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me.”
Of course you do not do this out loud; Otherwise, someone would call the cops.
Still though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.
Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is always saying, with that sweet moon language, what every other eye in this world is dying to hear?
That sweet moon language that we’re all dying to hear? Now, come on. This is embarrassing. No one wants to hear that we’re all desperate to be loved. Do they?
My husband and I celebrated 15 years of marriage over the weekend. And maybe we dare not admit it, but I think Hafiz is right. There is, in us, this gigantic pull, to connect. Below words, below skin, beyond the neon embers of romance. We just want to be loved. For who we are, frailties included.
What we are longing for, I believe, is godly love. Because we have known it before. We have felt its sweetness and non-judgement, its absoluteness. That is the thing we want most. So what does God say? Give it away. Give others the very thing you are looking for.
He is so wise. Self-love doesn’t work. Have you noticed that? Efforts to “love ourselves” are well and good; of course we need to pay attention to our inner needs, take care of our health, and our spirit. But self-love doesn’t fix things. Doesn’t really succeed.
It is love that vaunteth not itself, seeketh not its own, beareth all things, and endureth all things (I Corinthians 13: 4-7) that makes the world right, makes relationships work, changes us, fixes us.
The moon always speaks to me. She reminds me who I am and that love is God’s to give. It is his gift, his characteristic. And it moves through us when we ask for it.
So, would you like to join me for an experiment today? Let’s try and meet others with Hafiz’ bright orbs in our eyes. Full moons that speak that sweet language of acceptance, not criticism. So we can say what the people in our lives are aching to hear.
How do you interpret Hafiz’s poem? What language is he talking about? What keeps us from gifting this kind of love?