Classic Poem

The veil of the face of the Soul is The dust of my body base;
O happy, thrice happy the moment The veil when I cast from this face!

A cage such as this is unworthy Of such a sweet singer as I;
I'll get me to Rizwan's rose-garths; For I am a bird of that race

I know not why I came hither Nor where I had been before:
Alack and alas that unknowing I am of my proper case!

O how shall my spirit compass The plains of the Spirit-world,
When cabined I am and bounden In bonds of the body base?

I, in the halls of the Houris Whose true habitation is,
Why in the street of the winehouse Is my abiding-place?

Nay, marvel not if from my heart's blood There cometh the scent of musk;
For I'm like the Tartary musk-deer, That men for their muskpods chase.

The fringe of my gold-wrought raiment Regard not; for candle-like,
Thereunder are hidden burnings, That fill all my bosom's space.

O come; the existence of Hafiz Take up from before his feet,
That none, whilst thou art, of my being May hearken or see a trace.