Ghazal 429

Cupbearer, come — for the tulip's cup is filled with wine —

how long will these idle talks go on, and until when these fables?

Pass beyond pride and coquetry — for time has seen

the folds of Caesar's coat and the edge of Kay's crown.

Be sober — for the bird of the garden has become drunk — beware —

awake — for the sleep of nonexistence follows — heed!

How delicately you stroll, O branch of spring —

may you never be troubled by the storm of the winter wind.

There is no trust in the sky's love and its ways —

alas for the one who became safe from its deceit.

Tomorrow, the wine of Kawthar and the houris are for us —

and today too, the moon-faced cupbearer and the cup of wine.

The morning breeze gives memories of the days of youth —

O youth, give the remedy that takes away grief!

Do not look at the pomp and sovereignty of the rose — for

the footman of the wind will trample each of its petals underfoot.

Give a one-maund cup in memory of Hatim of Tayy —

that we may fold up the black ledger of the misers.

From that wine which gave beauty and delicacy to the Judas-tree —

the grace of its nature cast sweat from its cheek.

Set your seat in the garden — for in service, like servants,

the cypress stands, and the reed has girded its waist.

Hafez, the tale of your sweet enchanting speech has reached

to the border of Egypt and China and the regions of Rome and Rayy.