Classic Poem

Heart, for thy running-footman Let favouring fate suffice!
The breeze of Shiraz' gardens For travel-mate suffice!

Leave not the Loved One's dwelling, Dervish; but let for thee
Travel of thought and corner Of cloister strait suffice!

For thine excuse with people Of travel, let the love
Of wonted home and trothplight Of ancient date suffice!

Sit at the tavern bench-head And tipple wine: for thee,
This much of the world's profit In wealth and state suffice!

And if from the heart's corner A grief in ambush lie,
Let thee, for sure asylum, The tavern-gate suffice!

Seek not superfluous riches; Make light thy need on thee;
A flask of wine like rubies And moon-faced mate suffice!

Heav'n giveth to the dullard The reins of wish; thou'rt one
Of lore and sense: to damn thee These sins with Fate suffice.

Lean not on others' bounties; For in both worlds the King's
Good graces and acceptance With God Most Great suffice.

None other pious practice, Hafiz, behoveth thee:
The prayers of dawn and midnight, Early and late, suffice.