Classic Poem

Quoth the wine-seller old (Fair fall The name of him!) yesterday,
“Drink wine and the heart's chagrin From the memory do away!”

Quoth I, “To the wind my name Wine giveth and my repute.”
Quoth he, “As I bid thee, do, And happen thereof what may!

“Since all the world's capital, loss And profit, from hand must go,
“Rejoice not over the gain Nor grieve for the losing aye.

“In a world where Solomon's throne To the wind went, wind in hand
“Thou hast, if thou set thy heart On aught which must needs decay.

“Honey from bee-stings free Nor rose without thorn there is:
“What help for it? On this wise Is fashioned the world's array.

“Fill, fill up the bowl with wine And list, with the ear of sense,
“To the talk of the cup, as the tale It telleth of Jem and Kei.

“If, Hafiz, thou grudge to list To the counselling of the wise,
“With “Long be thy life! Farewell!” We'll make an end of our say!”