Poems from the Divan of Hafiz
Arise, oh Cup-bearer, rise! and bring To lips that are thirsting the bowl they praise, For it seemed that love was an easy thing, But my feet have fallen on difficult ways. I have prayed the wind o’er my heart to fling The fragrance of musk in her hair that sleeps— In the night of her hair—yet no fragrance stays The tears of my heart’s blood my sad heart weeps.
Hear the Tavern-keeper who counsels you: “With wine, with red wine your prayer carpet dye!” There was never a traveller like him but knew The ways of the road and the hostelry. Where shall I rest, when the still night through, Beyond thy gateway, oh Heart of my heart, The bells of the camels lament and cry: “Bind up thy burden again and depart!”
The waves run high, night is clouded with fears, And eddying whirlpools clash and roar; How shall my drowning voice strike their ears Whose light-freighted vessels have reached the shore?
I sought mine own; the unsparing years Have brought me mine own, a dishonoured name. What cloak shall cover my misery o’er When each jesting mouth has rehearsed my shame!
Oh Hafiz, seeking an end to strife, Hold fast in thy mind what the wise have writ: “If at last thou attain the desire of thy life, Cast the world aside, yea, abandon it!”