Classic Poem

That bitter wine I crave, whose might Man's wit and will oppresses,
So of the world I may awhile Be quit and its distresses.

Bring wine, for none on earth assured Against the heavens' malice,
For Mars their bully's pranks and eke Venus their harperess, is

The board of this base-fostering age No honey hath of easance:
Wash from thy sense's palate, heart, Its salt and bitter messes.

Leave Behram's lasso and Jem's cup Take up; for I this desert,
The world, have traversed and to find Nor Behram nor his ass is.

To look with favour on the poor No blemish is to greatness;
Nay, Solomon the Great gave ear Unto the ant's addresses.

Come, and the mystery of Time I'll show thée in wine's mirror;
But tell it not to blinded hearts And Nature's crookednesses.

Wine ruby-red from emerald cup I drink; for this the virtue
To blind the viper of the age (The pietist) possesses.

The bow of the Beloved's brow Still aims its shafts at Hafiz;
But at his forearm void of strength It smiles, while it oppresses.