All the Soufi's coin not wholly Pure from tincture of allay is;
Marry, of the fire deserving Many a patchcoat, sooth to say, is!

This our Soufi, him who useth With the dawn-prayer to wax drunken,
Note him in the evening-season, When with wine he blithe and gay is.

Well it were if into usance Came the touchstone of experience,
So that black-aviced should every One become in whom allay is.

'Tis not affluence's nursling To the Friend accéss that findeth;
Loverhood of none but topers, Tried with suffering, the way is.

Sorrow how long wilt thou suffer For this rascal world? Drink wine, man;
Pity that the heart of sages Should be troubled with affray is.

If the skinker's down this fashion Write upon her face's water,
Many a cheek with bloody water Overpainted night and day is.

Hafiz' prayer-rug and his patchcoat Off the wineseller shall carry,
If the wine his cup that filleth Skinked by yonder moonfaced may is!