Classic Poem

Oh, is it not time that the Loved Ones, indeed, should relent,
That the covenant-breakers should turn them to faith and repent?

Do they never hear tidings of him who abideth forlorn,
The fire of chagrin in his breast, since they left him and went?

O would that my people but knew what hath happened to him,
The distraught for their love! They would pity his case and consent.

The Spring-season come is and green once again are the hills:
Yet hear I no warbling: what aileth the songstresses gent?

My tears what the bosom concealeth relate and expound:
Nay, hark to the dumb how it speaketh! Oh wonderment!

'Tis the time when the East wind fulfilleth the lover's desire;
But sev'rance our case from the pleasance of Spring doth prevent.

A draught of your favour, o sons of our uncle, vouchsafe!
For still by their dealings we measure the excellent

O thou that o'er passest all Sultans in puissance, have ruth
And God shall requite thee; for goodness is increment.

Each one of my comrades hath substance and wishes fulfilled:
But nought hath poor Hafiz save poortith and debt and lament.