Classic Poem

Full blown the red rose is and drunken Become is the nightingale.
They call us to drink and make merry; Wine-worshipping Soufis, all hail!

The basis, behold, of repentance, In strength as the rock that appeared,
On marvellous fashion hath shattered A goblet of crystal frail!

Bring wine, for, indeed, in her presence, That stead of unwishful disdain,
What, marry, may Sultan or shepherd, What sober or drunken avail?

Since needs we this double-doored hostel At last must depart, if the roof
And the arch of our life-stead be lofty Or lowly, nay, what doth it ail?

To no one vouchsafed is abiding On life without dole and annoy;
The Pact of the Prime on condition They stablished of sorrow and bale.

With “Is” and with “Is not” thy spirit Concern not; but be of good cheer;
Whatever betide of perfection, Still Death is the end of the tale.

To wind went all Solomon's glory And nothing it profited him
That giv'n him to know was the bird-speech And ride on the steed of the gale.

With pinion and wing from the pathway Swerve not, for the arrow of flight,
Though it keepeth the air for a season, Syne falleth to earth without fail.

The tongue of thy pen, to God, Hafiz, What thanks shall it render for this,
That the words which it's gifted to utter From hand unto hand they retail?