Classic Poem

Cupbearer, come! Lo, of desire for thy service I die,
Prayer for thy weal Making and yearning thy bonds to aby.

Prithee, in thanks That upon thee Fortune's cup is outpoured,
Show me the way, Darkness of doubt and amazement to fly.

Though, on all sides, I in sin's ocean am plunged, since acquaint
Grown I with Love Am, of the people of mercy am I.

Me for ill-fame, Scribe, and for toping blame not! On my head
This the Divan Wrote of Foreordinance fated on high

Wine! For to me Lover and toper by birth-right to be
Heritage-wise Came: it was neither to will nor to buy.

I, who in life Willed not to stir from the land of my birth,
Now, for thy sight's Sake, after travel and strangerhood sigh.

Far in the flesh I'm from that hold of fair fortune, thy door;
Heart but and soul, Still of the dwellers thy presence anigh.

Mountain and sea Are in the way of me wounded and weak:
Khizr august, Strength to my feet, of thy favour, supply.

Wind of the East, If thou a breath of her musk-scented locks
Utter, the wrath 'Ware of my jealousy wreaked on the spy!

Th'arrow of gaze, Aimed at thine eyebrow, have I to wit's ear
Drawn and await Stand on occasion at thee to let fly.

Hafiz intent (So but a respite to him Time vouchsafe)
In this conceit Is to surrender his soul in thine eye.