Ode 141

THE days go by, yet not a word you send;
Of aught befallen you no single word!
Tell the East Wind—he is our faithful friend;
Or send a letter by some travelling bird.

Unless you come to meet me, how shall I
The lofty region of your presence scale!
O angel, walk a little down the sky,
And meet me, climbing, lest indeed I fail.

From jar to flagon hark how the wine goes!
See that from flagon to cup it runs as fast!
And mark you how the coy and cloistered rose
From her flushed cheek discretion's veil hath cast.

Not rose-leaves blent with honey over-night
Would prove an unguent for my wounded heart;
Nay, but her bitter aloes, if I might
Add but one kiss, would surely heal its smart.

Zahid, I often wonder that you dare
To talk so much with such a drunken crew;
O Zahid, what if we should prove a snare,
And have an evil influence over you!

Listen! at wine you 've ranted long enough;
For once in fairness then its virtues try;
Come, venture for yourself the perilous stuff—
Taste it—and give us, if you can, the lie.

Poor devils of the wine-shop—be not fooled;
Trust only God and his good angel, wine;
Let not your own wine-wisdom be over-ruled
By each loud ignoramus of the vine.

Wisely our Magian Elder doth advise:
The tavern's secrets unto none impart,
And never to the innocent advertise
Experience of the tried and travelled heart.

HAFIZ to see your face burns night and day;
O you, indulged by Heaven in every whim,
Turn not your head indifferent away,
But in his desert throw one glance to him.