Conserve of roses is this book of song,
With dewy tinctures of the violet
Subtly distilled and blent a life-time long,
With the years sweeter grown and sweeter yet.

'T is for this reason that the vulgar kind
Of singers envious of HAFIZ are;
Their sugar candy is not so refined
Mere sticky sweetmeats of the cheap bazaar.

Bitterness fill his mouth for whom my songs
Are not heard honey to the ravished ear,
And dust upon his head whose malice wrongs
This limpid verse as running water clear.

How should a man blind from his mother's womb
Buy with shut eyes a maiden for his bed!
Down the long line of loveliness in bloom
The sightless dotard all in vain is led.
[Ode 596]