Classic Poem

Longing for the wind of Springtime Did me to the open plain take,
Where thy fragrance, breeze up-broughten, Did repose from us again take.

Wheresoe'er a heart to find was, It astray thine eye hath carried;
Not alone did it my weary Heart, all sick with love and pain, take.

Tears like silver came and carried Off perforce my face's lustre;
Gold for gold gave they, who, coming, This my merchandise would fain take.

Lo, my tears into the highway That thy stony heart have broughten;
For the torrent can the boulder To the margent of the main take.

Sorrow's hosts last night the squadron Of my patience bore from station;
Longing for thy sight my joyance Captive did, as in a chain, take.

Yon bow-eyebrowed Turk waylaid us With her glance; the hyacinthine
Tress of that straight-statured cypress Did our gear of heart and brain take.

Yesterday itself wine vaunted Of thy lip's life-giving virtue;
Wherefore did thy lip its lustre, For that arrogance profane, take.

Name the bulbul not to Hafiz For sweet speech: before the parrot,
Nightingale or Thousand-Voices Who into account would deign take?