Classic Poem

Minstrel Love with voice and ghittern Wondrous skill possesseth:
All he soundeth its especial Fashion still possesseth.

Be the world of lovers' plaining Never void, for virtue
Joy-imparting that its cadence Sweet and shrill possesseth.

Though nor gold he hath nor puissance, Our dreg-draining elder
None the less a Lord gift-giving, Cov'ring ill, possesseth.

Dear my heart hold; for enamoured Since this sugar-craving
Fly of thee is, it the Huma's Pomp at will possesseth.

'Twere but justice if a monarch Of his neighbour question,
Who for shadefellow a beggar, will or nill, possesseth.

Tears of blood I showed the leaches. “Love”, quoth they, “thine ill is
“And a remedy heart-fretting, Cure or kill, possesseth.”

From the glance oppression learn not; For in Love's religion,
Every action its requital, Good or ill, possesseth.

Rightly said the Magian youngling, “Drink thou to his welfare
“Who a soul as pure as water In the rill possesseth!”

King, the Fátiheh reciteth Hafiz; Yea, and craving
For thy blessing him, low sitting On thy sill, possesseth.