Classic Poem

Cupbearer, come: our boat On th'ocean of wine cast thou:
In the bosoms of old and young, Come, clamour and pine cast thou.

" Me into wine's boat cast, Skinker; for they have said,
" Do thou good works and on Water, in fine, cast thou. "

I, on deluded wise, Strayed from the tavern-street:
Me in the path of right, Skinker benign, cast thou.

Bring me a beaker a-brim With rose-coloured, musk-scented wine
And sparks into rosewater's heart Of envy malign cast thou.

Ruined and drunk though I be, Show thou me somewhat of grace;
A glance on this heart, distraught And ruined, of mine cast thou.

If there behove thee the sun Ashine in the midst of the night,
The veil from the rosy face Of the maid of the vine cast thou.

Let them not me commit To the clay on the day of my death;
But tavernward bear me and there In the barrel of wine cast thou.

Since, Hafiz, for Fortune's despite, Thy soul to extremity's come,
At the Div of afflictions and woes Those star-shafts of thine cast thou.