Classic Poem

There's none to our Friend for good faith And fashions fair ever attaineth
To thee of this saw God forfend Denial there ever attaineth!

To the worth of our Friend, the sincere, The faithful, no trustiest comrade
Or mate, by old fellowship's dues And rights I swear, ever attaineth.

Let those who of loveliness boast Their beauty display! To our Loved One,
For beauty of fashions and form, None anywhere ever attaineth.

Yea, coins by the thousand they bring To the mart of Creation: but none
Our mint-master's standard of proof, Beyond compare, ever attaineth.

The Pen of Creation fair shapes, By thousands, produceth: but no one,
In heart-soothing beauty and charm, To her, our fair, ever attaineth.

O heart, sorrow not for the thrusts Of the envious: but trust thou in God;
For no evil to souls, that rely On Heaven's care, ever attaineth.

Alack, for that Life's caravan Still hurrieth past on such wise
That no whit of its passage's dust Our country's air ever attaineth.

Live we on such fashion, the dust Of the road though we be for abjection,
That nought, by our fault, of heart's dust To whomsoe'er ever attaineth.

With longing is Hafiz consumed And I fear me, no word of his case
To the ear of yon monarch august And debonair ever attaineth.