Ode 79

No one has seen thy face; a thousand eyes

Are watching for the rising of thy veil;

Rosebud, full many a foolish nightingale

Waits thine appearance with impatient sighs.

It is no wonder that I haunt thy door;

Though far away indeed from thee I seem,

That some day thou wilt love me is my dream—

Alas! it is the dream of many more.

Love is a church where all religions meet;

Islam, or Christ, or Tavern, it is one;

Thy face of every system is the sun—

O Sun that shines in the Beloved's street.

Where Love is there 's no need of convent bell,

And holy living needs no holy frocks;

Time ticks not to your monastery clocks;

Where goodness is there God must be as well.

Known to the Well-Beloved my sorrow must be,

And all this anguish I suffer for her sake.

For every other agony and ache

Doctor there is—she will my doctor be.

HAFIZ, God knows! not coward is thy cry;

Reason enough there is for each sad word;

If only thou wert certain that she heard!

So many a song is wasted on the sky.