Classic Poem

Once again from myself hath wine ravished me: yea,
Once again over me hath it gotten the sway.

Now blessings galore on red wine, from my face
Which the yellow of pallor hath carried away!

The hand ever live that first gathered the grape
And the foot that first pressed it ne'er stumble nor stray!

Foreordinance lovership wrote on my head:
Fate's forewritten script is indelible aye.

Nay, prate not of wisdom; for, like the mean Kurd,
Aristotle must give up the ghost on death's day.

Go, pietist, carp not at us for default
In our due; for God's due is no trifle to pay.

I counsel thee live in the world on such wise
That, when thou art dead, " He 's not dead, " they may say.

With the Cup of Infinity drunken are all
Their thirst with sheer wine who, like Hafiz, allay.