Classic Poem

Welcome, messenger of gladness! Prithee, tidings tell of the Friend,
So my soul I may for ransom Of the mention sell of the Friend.

Like the bulbul caged, love-frenzied, Pines the parrot of my soul
For the sugar and the almond (Lip and eye as well) of the Friend.

Lo, the snare the Loved One's tress is And her mole the bait thereof;
Of my hope the bait to come at, In the snare I fell of the Friend.

Not until the Judgment Morning Shall he wake from drunkenness
Who, like me, a draught hath drunken Of the passion-spell of the Friend.

Nowhit more in exposition Of my longing will I say,
Lest my fashery to aching Should the head compel of the Friend.

My inclining was to union, But to sev'rance her intent;
Wherefore I renounced my wishes, So the wish befell of the Friend.

These mine eyes, were't but vouchsafed me, As with tutty, would I salve
With the highway's dust, ennobled By the travel of the Friend.

Patience, Hafiz! Burn and suffer For her sake nor solace seek;
For no salve can the unresting Pain of love dispel of the Friend.