Chance to me, at dawn, of drinking Beakers twain of wine hath fallen;
From the skinker's lip the liquor, Trickling down, on mine hath fallen.

To the Bride of Youth returning I, for drunkenness, desired;
But 'twixt her and me divorcement Sans recall, in fine, hath fallen.

From that tipsy eye a corner Fain would I have sought; but, 'las!
Lack on me of strength to sever From her eyebrows' shrine hath fallen.

Claim the good-news-gift, dream-teller; For, in morning's sugar-sleep,
Yesternight, to me for housemate, Lo, the sun ashine hath fallen!

In the stages of the Pathway, Wheresoever we have fared,
'Twixt salvation and loveliking Severance condign hath fallen.

Cup on cup, o skinker, pour me; For the lover save he play,
In hypocrisy each farer Of the Path Divine hath fallen.

What time there of Hafiz written Was this wild and troubled verse,
Sure the song-bird of his fancy Into passion's twine hath fallen.