Classic Poem

The tongue of the pen refuseth To set forth the bale of sev'rance;
Else had I to thee expounded, Beloved, the tale of sev'rance.

The mate of the troop of thine image I am and the horseman of patience;
The comrade of fire of estrangement And fellow all-hail of sev'rance.

Alas for the days of my lifetime, That come to an end in the hope are
Of union, nor come to an end are The days of the vale of sev'rance!

My head, that for glory aforetime I struck on the roof of the heavens,
I've laid, by the true ones I swear, At the door of the jail of sev'rance!

Oh how shall I open my pinions, To fly in the ether of union,
Since shed hath the bird of my bosom Its plumes on the gale of sev'rance?

Nay, how shall I make pretention To union with thee, since the puppet
Of Fortune become is my heart And my body the bail of sev'rance?

Roast meat, for the ardour of longing, Become is my heart; and afar
From the Loved One, the blood of the liver I drink from the pail of sev'rance.

What help for me, now, on the ocean Of grief, in a whirlpool is fallen
The bark of my patience, because Of the stress of the sail of sev'rance?

Not much did it lack but the bark Of my hope had been foundered and sunk
Of the billows of longing for thee On the sea without pale of sev'rance.

The firmament, whenas it noted My head in Love's carcanet taken,
The neck of my patience constrained With the halter of bale of sev'rance.

Estrangement and sev'rance, I wonder, Who was it that into the world brought?
The day of estrangement be darkened And may the house fail of sev'rance!

If, Hafiz, Love's way to the end With the foot of desire thou hadst followed,
In hand none had given estrangement The rein of avail of sev'rance.