From the Elder of the Magians This pronouncement do I hold;
“Wine unlawful is, when shared not With the Friend.” The saying's old.

Needs this cassock of dissembling Must I doff, for to the wise
Torment sore it is to cómmerce With the base and grief untold.

So maybe the Friend's lip scatter Of its goblet's dregs on me,
At the winehouse-door abiding, Years I've suffered heat and cold.

If belike my ancient service Have her memory escaped,
O remind her, breeze of dawning, Of the covenant of old!

If, though after years an hundred, On my dust thy scent should breathe,
Up my bones would rise to greet it, Dancing, from the graveyard mould

With an hundred hopes to lure us, Erst the charmer snared our heart;
Surely, covenants forgotten Are not of the generous-souled.

To the rosebud say, “Straithearted Be not for thy straitened case:
“Morning's breath and zephyr-waftings Yet shall help thee to unfold.”

Heart, take thought for thy well-being By another door than this;
Lovers' pain by leaches' tending Never yet hath been consoled.

Seek to gain the pearl of wisdom, So with thee thou mayst it bear;
Others' portion since the treasure Is of silver and of gold.

Puissant are the snares of Satan; Nor may mortal ever hope
Over him to win the vantage, If its succour heav'n withhold.

An thou lack of gold and silver, Hafiz, grieve not: grateful be;
Grace of speech, sound wit, what better Wares were ever bought or sold?