Poems from the Divan of Hafiz
A flower-tinted cheek, the flowery close Of the fair earth, these are enough for me— Enough that in the meadow wanes and grows The shadow of a graceful cypress-tree. I am no lover of hypocrisy; Of all the treasures that the earth can boast, A brimming cup of wine I prize the most— This is enough for me!
To them that here renowned for virtue live, A heavenly palace is the meet reward; To me, the drunkard and the beggar, give The temple of the grape with red wine stored! Beside a river seat thee on the sward; It floweth past—so flows thy life away, So sweetly, swiftly, fleets our little day— Swift, but enough for me!
Look upon all the gold in the world’s mart, On all the tears the world hath shed in vain; Shall they not satisfy thy craving heart? I have enough of loss, enough of gain; I have my Love, what more can I obtain? Mine is the joy of her companionship Whose healing lip is laid upon my lip— This is enough for me!
I pray thee send not forth my naked soul From its poor house to seek for Paradise; Though heaven and earth before me God unroll, Back to thy village still my spirit flies. And, Hafiz, at the door of Kismet lies No just complaint—a mind like water clear, A song that swells and dies upon the ear, These are enough for thee!