At the soul-adventurers' mart-head Proclamation lo! they make,
“Hearken, dwellers of the Loved One's Quarter! hearken, for God's sake!

“Some days is it since the daughter Of the vine from us hath strayed:
“Us, the lusts that she might follow Of her soul, did she forsake.

“She a coronet of bubbles And a robe of rubies hath:
“Wit and lore she reaveth: sleep not Safe from her, but watch and wake!

“Whoso giveth me that bitter One, my soul shall guerdon him:
“If in hell she hide her, thither, In her quest, yourselves betake!

“She's a wake-night, bitter, shrewish, Rosy, fuddleheaded maid;
“If ye find her, prithee bring her Straight to Hafiz' house, the rake!”