Classic Poem

Ho, parrot, thou Love's mysteries That utt'rest still,
God grant that sugar never lack Unto thy bill!

Green be thy head and glad thy heart For evermore!
Since well the Friend's down limned for us Is by thy skill.

Friends with hard sayings thou bespeak'st For heaven's sake,
Unravel thou this maze, that all May read who will!

Upon our faces, drowsed with sleep, O Fortune wake,
Somewhat of rosewater from out The goblet spill!

What tune was this the minstrel smote Upon the strings,
That drunk and sober, one and all, Dance to its trill?

What is this opiate, in cup The skinker cast?
For head nor turban's left to those Her wine that swill.

Nought of Life's water did the Fates Iskender grant:
Not to be got is this by gold Or might or skill.

The current coin though Reason be Of things create,
With Love the alchymist, forsooth, It weigheth nil.

Come, then, and hearken to the case Of folk of pain;
A tale that's scant of words, but much Of meaning still.

A Chinese idol of our faith's The foe become;
Safe guard my heart and faith, O Lord, Against her ill!

Intoxication's secrets tell The sober not;
Nor of the soul the pictures ask Of wall and sill.

By the good auspice of the King's Victorious flag,
The standard of the poet-host Is Hafiz' quill.

The part of God towards the slaves Performeth he;
Guard him, o Lord, I supplicate, From every ill.