Marry, what an idle story This of my renouncing wine is!
Sure, this much at least of reason And of understanding mine is.

I with drum and harp that nightly Stopped on piety the highway,
Turn me sudden to the Pathway! What a fable this of thine is!

Even now to end I know not All the pathway of the winehouse;
So unto what end, I know not, Our abstaining, by this sign, is.

If the pietist the topers' Pathway fare not, 'tis excused him;
Love's a matter that dependent On the leadership Divine is.

I'm the Magian Elder's bondman, Who from ignorance redeemed me;
Whatsoever doth our elder Very holiness, in fine, is.

Prayer and proudness for the zealot! Drunkenness for me and meekness!
Of us twain, o God, I wonder Whether favoured in Thine eyne is?

For this thought last night I slept not That a sage spoke thus; " If Hafiz
" Leave not drunkenness in season, Certes, reason for repine is. "