Classic Poem

Early after the night long revel
Took I lyre plectrum & bowl
Bridled the horse of Reason
Drove it with spurrs to the town of revellers

See the host flatters me
That I fear not the blinding of Destiny
Thou the aim of the arrow of speech
Said the host with bows of brows

Little profits it thee
Tho thou embrace me like a belt
Spread the net for others
Over the net the Auka soars

Host & trusted are one
Every difference is only a pretence
Reach us the boats of Sohra
That we save us out of these waters

Ah how enjoyed the Shah
Who in himself is constantly enamoured
All is riddle Hafiz
To explain it to us is mere talk.
Hafiz