Classic Poem

I, unto whom Thou gavest To look on the Loved One's face,
How shall I thank Thee, Thy servants That fosterest of Thy grace?

Say to affliction's beggar, " Wipe not the dust from thy cheek;
" Th' elixir of life to the lover's The dust of the praying-place "

For one or two tears thou strewest In Fortune's highway, eye,
Full many's the look of kindness That thou on her cheek shalt trace.

Excepting the swain ablution With blood of the liver make,
His prayer, by the dict of the mufti Of Love, is void and base.

O heart, for the stress of the pathway, Turn not thy bridle-rein;
The wayfarer true ne'er counteth The ups and downs of the chase

What profit shall I of the zephyr, The talebearer, get, since e'en
The cypress upright in the garden No confidant is for love's case?

In hand, in this dwelling of idle Illusion, take nought but the cup;
In this playhouse of puppets, no venture, Except it be love, embrace.

Albeit thy beauty's needless And heedless of others' love,
I'm none of the faint-heart lovers, Who tire of the quest apace.

Nay, how shall I tell thee the burning That I in my vitals feel?
Go, question my tears of the story: I'm none of the blabbing race.

The smile and the glance of beauty Love's goal is; else no need
Had Mehmoud of Ghezni's fortune Of Ayaz's tress and face.

God wotteth, where Hafiz voiceth His story of love in song,
The ditties of Venus take not In heaven the foremost place.