The morning of Fortune hath dawned: Where is the cup like the sun?
When were a moment more apt? Give me the winecup, my son!
House quiet and skinker the friend And minstrel sweet-spoken; — the time
Of joyance, the season of youth And the round of the cup is begun
For the sake of rejoicing the soul And adding adornment to mirth,
Gold goblet with rubies in flow To marry, God wot, were well done!
See, sweetheart and minstrel clap hands And tipsy ones dance to the sound,
Sleep reft by the cupbearer's glance From th' eyes of each winebibbing one.
Seclusion untroubled and sure And quiet communion with friends,
Whoever such pleasance may find An hundredfold vict'ries hath won.
Shrewd tirewoman Nature, in view Of the pleasance of wine, in the heart
Of the roseleaf hath rosewater hid And bringeth forth wine by the tun.
Since that moon-faced one Hafiz's pearls With her soul bought, in Venus's ears,
The sound of the viol still is, From rising to setting of sun.
When were a moment more apt? Give me the winecup, my son!
House quiet and skinker the friend And minstrel sweet-spoken; — the time
Of joyance, the season of youth And the round of the cup is begun
For the sake of rejoicing the soul And adding adornment to mirth,
Gold goblet with rubies in flow To marry, God wot, were well done!
See, sweetheart and minstrel clap hands And tipsy ones dance to the sound,
Sleep reft by the cupbearer's glance From th' eyes of each winebibbing one.
Seclusion untroubled and sure And quiet communion with friends,
Whoever such pleasance may find An hundredfold vict'ries hath won.
Shrewd tirewoman Nature, in view Of the pleasance of wine, in the heart
Of the roseleaf hath rosewater hid And bringeth forth wine by the tun.
Since that moon-faced one Hafiz's pearls With her soul bought, in Venus's ears,
The sound of the viol still is, From rising to setting of sun.