from the Persian of Hafiz
Of paradise, O Hermit wise,
Let us renounce the thought;
Of old they're in our names of sin
Allah recorded not.
Who dear to God on earthly sod
the same is glad that life is had,
Though corn he wants.
Oh just fakir, with brow austere,
Forbid me not the vine;
On the first day, pour Hafiz' clay
Was kneaded up with wine.
Thy mind the mosque and cool kiosk,
Spare fast and and orisons;
Mine me allows the drinking-house,
And sweet chase of the nuns.
He is no dervise, Heaven slights his service,
Who shall refuse
They're in the banquet upon his blanket
For Shiraz' juice.
Who his friend's skirt or hem of his shirt
Shall spare to pledge,
To him Eden's bliss and angel's kiss
Shall want their edge.
Up! Hafiz, grace from high God's face
Beams on thee pure;
Shy thou not hell, and trust thou well,
Heaven is secure.