Classic Poem

I have made a compact with the mistress of my soul,
that so long as I have a soul within my body
I will hold as mine own soul the well-wishers of her village.
In the privacy of my breast I see light from that taper of Chighil;
splendor to mine eye and brightness to my heart
from that moon of Khoten.
Since in accordance with my wishes and yearnings
I have gained the privacy of my breast,
why need I care for the slander of evil speakers
in the midst of the crowd?
If a hundred armies of lovely ones should be lying in ambush
to assault my heart,
I have, by the mercy and to the praise of heaven,
an idol which will shatter armies into pieces.
Would to heaven, my rival, that this night
thou wouldest close thine eye for a while,
that I might whisper a hundred words to her silent ruby lips!
No inclination have I for tulip, or white rose,
or the leaf of the narcissus,
so long as by Heaven's grace
I walk proudly in the rose garden of her favor.
O mine ancient wise one,
lay not thy prohibition on the wine-house;
for abandoning the wine-cup,
I should break a pledge to mine own heart.
My beverage is easy of digestion,
and my love is beautiful as a picture;
no one hath a love — such a love as I have!
I have a Cypress in my dwelling,
under the shade of whose tall statue
I can dispense with the cypress of the grove,
and the box-tree of the meadow.
I can boast that the seal of her ruby lip
is potent as was that of Solomon:
in possession of the Great Name,
why should I dread the Evil One!
After long abstinence,
Hafiz is become a notorious reveler;
but why grieve,
so long as there is in the world an Emin-ad-Din Hassan!
Spring is come again,
and the joy-exciting and vow-breaking rose;
In the delight of gazing on the cheek of the rose,
tear up the root of sorrow from thy heart!
The soft east wind is arrived;
the rosebud in its passion
hath burst forth and torn its own garment.
Learn, O my heart, the way of sincerity
from the clear water;
in uprightness seek freedom
from the cypress of the meadow.
The bride of the rosebud,
with her jewels and sweet smile,
hath stolen away with her black eye
my heart and my religion.
The warbling of the enamored nightingale,
and the piping of the bird of the thousand notes.
come to enjoy the meeting with the rose
from her house of mourning.
See how the gentle breeze hath entwined with his hand
the ringlets of the rose!
Look how the plaited locks of the hyacinth
bend over the face of the jessamine!
The story of the revolving sphere
seek to learn from the cup, O Hafiz!
as the voice of the minstrel
and the judgment of the wise advise thee!