Classic Poem

He who did of rose and wild rose On thy cheek the hue bestow,
Ease and patience, an He will it, Can on me, that rue, bestow;

And His bounty, who the usance Of oppression taught thy locks,
Can on me, the sorrow-stricken, Justice for my due bestow.

From Ferhad my hope I severed From the time when on Shirin's
Lip the bridle of his frenzied Heart he did, I knew, bestow.

If the golden treasure fail us, We've the corner of content;
He, who gave kings that , on beggars Did this latter, too, bestow.

Yea, a goodly bride the world is In appearance; but their lives
Must on her, to wedding-dower, Those her smiles that woo bestow.

Hence my heart to skirt of cypress And to marge of rill shall cleave,
More by sign the East glad tidings Doth of Springtide new bestow.

In the grip of Time's affliction Hafiz' heart is all a-bleed:
Great Kiwam-ed-din, requital For the lack of you bestow!