Classic Poem

Lacking thee, o swaying cypress, Lo! with rose and mead what do I?
Lily cheeks and spikenard tresses, What with these, indeed, what do I?

Pity 'tis that for the railing Of the foes, thy face I saw not!
Brass is not my face, like mirrors, That I should not heed. What do I?

Go, admonisher, and cavil Not at those who drain the winecup;
For to them of Fate Foreordered Was this wont decreed. What do I?

When the jealous levin leapeth From the ambush of the Viewless,
Lest my harvest burn, some succour Unto me concede. What do I?

Since the Turkman king it pleaseth In the pit of woes to cast me,
But an if Tehémten's favour Help me in my need, what do I?

How make head against the darkness Of the night of Wadi Eimen?
Nay, if Sina's fire afford not Light, my steps to lead, what do I?

Topmost Paradise, o Hafiz, Is my patrimonial dwelling:
In this ruined world's encampment, Full of waste and weed, what do I?