Classic Poem

A fair I have, who round the rose A screen of hyacinths arow hath;
A warrant for the Redbud's blood The Springtide, in her cheek a-blow, hath.

See, by the dust of that her down The sun-spring of her cheek is shadowed:
Lord, grant her life etern; for she Eternal loveliness, I trow, hath.

From whatsoever side I look, There from her eye is no escaping;
For from its coign it lieth wait And arrow evermore in bow hath.

'Fore Heaven, ruler of the feast, Do justice thou for me upon her;
For wine with others hath she drunk And headache now with me, heigho! hath.

When first a lover I became, I said, “I've won the pearl desiréd.”
Alack, what fell, blood-shedding waves This sea of Love, I did not know, hath!

Assure thou me against the fear Of sev'rance, if thou hope that heaven
Will save thee harmless from the eye Of whoso will to work thee woe hath.

Bereave mine eye not of the sight Of that thy shape's heart-taking cypress;
Nay, plant it by this fountain-head, Which running water still a-flow hath.

If with thy girth thou wilt me bind, For God's sake, take me quick; for surely
Delay hath perils, ay, and harm For the pursuer, evenso, hath.

When the rose smileth in thy face, Into her snare fall not, o bulbul;
There's no relying on the rose, Though the world's beauty she to show hath.

Pour thou a draught upon the dust And note the story of the mighty;
For many a tale the earth to tell Of Keikobád and Keikhusró hath.

When from her tresses' snare she shook The dust of hearts and souls of lovers,
The blabbing East wind she enjoined Her secret keep from friend and foe hath.

What hath befallen in this way, That every man of wit and insight
Here in this doorway, as I see, His head upon the sill bowed low hath?

How for my case can I account, That yonder city-troubling sharper
With bitterness hath Hafiz slain, Yet sugar in her mouth e'ermo' hath?