Classic Poem

Though of deserving, indeed, to vaunt me Unto the Friend unfit is,
Dumb if the tongue be, of Arab learning Brimful the mouth and wit is.

Peri cheek-hidden is she, yet demons Lurk in her roguish glances:
Lo, for amazement reason consumeth! Yea, what a marvel it is!

Nay, of the reason ask not why Fortune Ever the worthless fosters;
Sure, for her favour absence of reason Reason enough, to wit, is.

In this world-meadow none ever plucketh Rose without thornprick; never
Even the heav'n-lit lamp of Mohammed Of Boulehéb's sparks quit is.

Hassan from Basreh, Suheib from Syria, Bilal from Abyssinia,
And Abou Jehl from the land of Mecca; Stranger than this what writ is?

Not at a wheatcorn college and hospice Set I; the bench of the tavern
Is my saloon and the foot of the wine jar The summering-stead where I sit is.

E'en as the lustre and light of our eyes is The maid of the grape-vine's beauty;
Now in the grape-veil, Now in the flagon's Face-veil of glass it lit is.

Yea, from yon ruby giver of gladness Seek thou the salve of thy suff'rance,
That in Aleppo's flagons and China's Fair alike seen and fit is.

Parts by the thousand of wit and breeding Had I; and now I'm drunken,
Whatso unmannerly from me proceedeth Blazon of lack of wit is.

Hither the goblet! A constant helper Wine unto me, like Hafiz,
In the dawn-weeping and midnight calling On heaven to sins remit, is.