A thousand thanks that I see thee Again, to my full intent,
In truth and purity's fashion Become to my heart's consent!

The wayfarers true of the Pathway The track of calamity tread;
The Son of the Road unrecking Is of ascent and descent.

One's grief for the Friend 'tis better To hide from the watcher's eye;
No holders of secrets the breasts are Of folk malevolent.

In thanks for this grace that our session Is lit by the face of the Friend,
If noyance betide, like the candle, Consume and be content.

With half-a-kiss buy thee a blessing From one of the men of heart,
The spite of thy foes from body And soul which shall prevent.

The grief that my soul o'ercometh, O Asef, of care for thee,
A twelvemonth might scarce suffice me To tell, to its full extent.

The strains of the dulcet ditties Of Hafiz of Shiraz forth
To Araby and Chaldaea Their murmur of love have sent.