Classic Poem

For our pain no cure, ywis, is. Help! Oh help!
For our woes no end in bliss is. Help! Oh help!

Faith and heart they've ta'en and threaten Now the soul:
'Gainst these cruel cockatrices, Help! Oh help!

Help, against the heart-enslavers Pitiless,
Souls who seek in price of kisses! Help! Oh help!

See, our blood they drink, these stony-Hearted trulls!
Muslims, say, what cure for this is? Help! Oh help!

Help the wretched, day of union! Save them from
Parting's long dark night's abysses! Help! Oh help!

Every time and tide betideth Some new pain
From that heartless fair's caprices. Help! Oh help!

Day and night, I fare distracted, Weep and burn,
As the wont of me, Hafíz, is. Help! Oh help!