In blossom is the crimson rose, and be rapt nightingale, trills his song;
A summons that to revel calls you, O Sufi wine-adoring throng!
The fabric of my contrite fervor appeared upon a rock to bide,
Yet see how by a crystal goblet it hath been shattered in its pride.
Bring wine; for to a lofty spirit, should they at its tribunal be,
What were the sentry, what the Sultan, the toper, or the foe of glee?
Forth From this hostel of two portals as finally thou needs must go,
What of the porch and arch of Being be of high span or meanly low?
To bliss' goal we gain not access, if sorrow has been tasted not;
Yea, with Alastu's pact was coupled the sentence of our baleful lot.
At Being and Non-being fret not; but either with calm temper see:
Non-being is the term appointed for the most lovely things that be.
Asaf's display, the airy courser, the language which the birds employed,
The wind has swept; and their possessor no profit from his wealth enjoyed.
Oh! fly not from thy pathway upward, for the winged shaft that quits the bow
A moment to the air has taken, to settle in the dust below.
What words of gratitude, O Hafez
Shall thy reed's tongue express anon,
As its choice gems of composition
From hands to other hands pass on?