Classic Poem

From the usance of the topers Many a year I never strayed
Till desire I put in prison, As the understanding bade.

Of myself the way I found not To the Anca's dwelling-place;
Nay, this journey with the guiding Bird of Solomon I made.

In my hand nor thine the usance Is of drunk or sober-ness;
This I do the Lord Eternal Bade me do, and I obeyed.

Heaven yet I hope to merit By the grace of God Most High;
Though door-keeping in the winehouse Long I practised to my trade.

That in my old age by Joseph's Company I'm comforted,
Is the recompense of patience, In the cell of grief displayed.

On my wounded heart some shadow Cast, o treasure of desire!
Since that house, indeed, in ruins, For the love of thee, I've laid.

I, repenting, said, “The skinker's Lip I will not kiss,” and now
Bite my lip, because I hearkened Unto what the foolish said.

From the contrary of usance Seek thy heart's desire; for I
Ease and heart's content have gotten From her tangled tress's braid.

If I hold the seat of honour In the Chancery of Song,
Marvel not, for long the servant Of the President I've played.

Morning-rising dost thou practise, Hafiz-like? Salvation seek'st?
What I've made, all by the blessing Of the Koran have I made.

Never Hafiz, 'neath the prayer-arch Of the heavens, such a life
Led of ease and cheer as I have By the blessed Koran's aid.