From hand my heart goeth: help! help! Ye pious! By all that's Divine!
Alack, for it's like to wax known, This close-hidden secret of mine!

We're folk aboard ship, weather bound; O breeze of fair auspice arise!
Mayhap on the face of the Friend Once more we shall pasture our eyne.

This ten-day long favour of Fate Is nought but delusion and fraud:
Friend, seize opportunity friends To pleasure, or e'er it decline!

Sweet carolled the bulbul last night, In the circle of wine and of rose,
" Make ready the dawn-draught! Awake! Come hither, ye topers of wine! "

Iskender his mirror, indeed, The cup is: to thee, if thou look,
The case of Darius's realm Discover it will, by this sign.

O bountiful one, of the case Of the famishing dervish, one day,
Enquire, as an off'ring of thanks For safety from Fortune malign!

This precept, " Benevolence use With friends and dissembling with foes; "
The secret of both worlds' content These two little clauses enshrine

The Fates have refused us access To the street of good name and repute;
If this thou approve not, then change The Lot and Appointment Divine.

That bitter, which Soufis, to wit, " The Mother of Lewdnesses " style,
More sweet and delectable is Than the kisses of maids in our eyne.

In season of straitness, thyself To pleasure and toping apply;
Th'elixir a Korah that makes Of a beggar's the juice of the vine.

Stiffnecked be not, lest the fair, In whose hand the hard rock is as wax,
Thy heart with estrangement consume, Like candles that waste in the shine.

Bestowers of life are the fair, That babble the sweet Persian speech:
To pietists, cupbearer, tell, O tell these glad tidings of thine!

The winebibbers' minstrel will bring The pietist elders to dance
And ecstasy, if he recite These sweet Persian couplets of mine.

Hold, hold thou poor Hafiz excused, O elder unsullied of skirt!
'Twas not of himself that he donned This patchcoat bespattered with wine.