Classic Poem

Lo, thine image from the tablet Of my heart and soul ne'er goeth;
Yonder graceful-moving cypress From my mem'ry's scroll ne'er goeth.

From the brain of me distracted The concept of that thy tress,
'Spite the cruelty of heaven And misfortune's dole, ne'er goeth.

In Creation's Prime, conjunction With thy tress-tip swore my heart;
Till Creation's End, obedient, It from that control ne'er goeth.

Whatsoever (save grief's burden For thy sake) within the heart
Of me wretched is departeth: But that burden sole ne'er goeth.

On such wise in heart and spirit Hath the love of thee ta'en root
That though life itself departeth, Love of thee from soul ne'er goeth.

If my heart go after fair ones, 'Tis excused: it hath the pain:
Do what may it, if it after That which maketh whole ne'er goeth?

Whoso would not heart-bewildered, Like to Hafiz' self, become
Heart to lovelings giveth never, After tress and mole ne'er goeth.