Classic Poem

Up and in the golden goblet Water of delight cast thou;
Ere the goblet of the costard Turn to dust outright, cast thou!

Lo, the Valley of the Silent In the end is our abode:
Noise of mirth, what while life lasteth, Up to heaven's height cast thou!

From the cheek of the Beloved Far be sin-polluted eyes!
Glance thereon but from the mirror Pure and clean and bright cast thou!

By thy verdant head, I charge thee, Cypress, when I'm dust become,
Shade therefrom upon mine ashes, Putting by despite, cast thou.

This our heart, that by the serpent Of thy tress-tip hath been stung,
In the house of balm and healing, By thy lip's sweet might, cast thou!

Well thou wottest, the possession Of this world abideth not.
In its harvests, with the liver Of the cup, a light cast thou.

With my tears I make ablution; For the folk say of the Path,
" First be pure and on that Pure One Then, indeed, the sight cast thou! "

Lord, yon bigot, who in lovers Findeth but default, the smoke
Of his sighing on the mirror Of his wit and spright cast Thou!

Rose-like, for her fragrance, Hafiz, Make a tunic of thy wede
And that tunic in the pathway Of yon cypress slight cast thou!