Thyself with the secret of Jemshid's cup Acquainted ill thou canst make,
The salve of thine eye with the threshold dust Of the tavern until thou canst make.

Sit not without winecup and song; for 'neath The vault of the sky, away
With grief from the heart, with the gurgle of wine And the minstrel's trill, thou canst make.

The rose of thy wish shall put aside Her face-veil and bloom, what time
Thyself, like the zephyr of dawn, attent On her service still thou canst make.

Be ever alert in the way of love: Press forward, stage by stage.
Great gain shall be thine if the journey to end, Betide there what will, thou canst make.

Nay, come, for possessed of delight and ease And life well-ordered thyself,
By the blessings and bounties, that from the folk Of vision distil, thou canst make.

Nor face-veil nor screen hath the loveliness Of the Friend: if the dust of the way
Thou lay with thy tears, then blest with her sight Thine eyes, to thy fill, thou canst make.

O thou, that withoutside the house of the flesh Ne'ersettest thy foot to depart,
How deemst thou, thy way to the stead of the truth, O'er desert and hill, thou canst make?

In mendicanthood at the winehouse's door A marvellous alchemy is:
This craft an thou practise, to very gold The dust of its sill thou canst make.

O heart, if cognition thou once attain Of the light of austerity,
Lo, laughing, renouncement of head and life, Like candle and quill, thou canst make.

But, whilst thou ensuest the cup of wine And the ruby lips of the fair,
Deem, deem not withal that shift aught else To do that may skill thou canst make.

If, Hafiz, thou hearken and lend thine ear To this my royal rede,
The king's highroad of the way of Love Thy footpath still thou canst make.