Ode 7

HEART, have you heard the news!
The Spring has come back—have you heard!
With little green shoot and little pink bud, and the little new-hatched bird,
And the Rose—yes! yes! the Rose—
Nightingale, have you heard the news!
The Rose has come back and the green and the blue,
And everything is as new as the dew—
New nightingale, new rose.

Wind of the east, flower-footed breeze,
O take my love to the budding trees,
To the cypress take it, and take it, too,
To the tender nurslings of meadows and leas,
To the basil take it, messenger breeze,
And I send it, my love, to you.

So glad am I of the new-found sun,
I believe I could kiss the tavern door;
Why, I could sweep the tavern floor
With the lashes of my eyes!

O April skies!
The winter's done,
O April skies!
The spring's begun;
And honey-humming
Summer 's coming
Close behind;
O April skies!
Even the tavern girl is kind.

HAFIZ, remember well how short is spring,
And drain the good days deep ere they depart;
Thou nightingale that shall forever sing
Rose of thine own imperishable art!


Brothers, attend
How ye shall spend
This fleeting treasure
Of days that pass:
Fill ye your measure
With present pleasure,
The deep sweet glass,
And love and leisure,
And sunny grass.

Let the pious thunder
Of heaven and hell—
He drinks as well;
Let the proud man rear
His lofty towers—
Have ye no fear;
The little flowers
That grow thereunder
Shall last as long—
Or a little song.

Not our Most High Lord
The Sultan's sword
Can more command,
When he comes to die,
Than you and I
Of simple birth
Can ask of earth—
A little land
In which to lie.

And, even now,
Who more would ask
Than just to bask
The blue sky under:
A little grass,
Wine in the glass,
One's liberty
And Love and wonder:
This, HAFIZ, is