My heart of a gipsy-like charmer, A trickstress, is captive made,
A troth-breaking, mischief-making And murderous-fashioned jade.

A thousandfold wedes of abstention And patchcoats of piety
Be ransom for moonfaced younglings, In tunics torn arrayed!

Come, call for the cup and sprinkle With rose-water Adam's clay,
Of thanks that in beauty's ball-game The angels thou hast outplayed.

Lo! Weary and poor, to thy doorway I'm come: show somewhat of ruth;
For, saving the love of thee, nothing I bring in my hand displayed.

The bondman am I of those speeches Which quicken the flame, not those
Whereby, as it were cold water, The quickest of fire's allayed.

Come drink; for the winehouse Speaker Unseen unto me last night,
“Abide in contentment's station And Destiny flee not,” said.

Exult thou not thus in thy puissance; For it upon record is
That thousands of secret chances By Heaven's command are swayed.

Bind, bind in my shroud the winecup, That so, on the Judgment Morn,
The fears of the Day of Outcry With wine may be awayed.

Beloved between and lover, Hafiz, no barrier is:
Thyself art thine own obstruction: Up and no more be stayed!