Ode 361

O LOVE that stole my heart with your strange face,
How pitiless you are, how pitiless!
Cruel to me, but cruel none the less
To the wide world, that, in the same sad case,
Loves you as I, and loves and loves you, love.

Sometimes I sigh as though my heart would break—
How red your lips are, O my love, my love!—
And sometimes pluck the arrow from my heart;
But, heartless one, what is the use to tell
The torments that I suffer for your sake
To you that could be heaven, instead of—hell;
O heartless one, to whom I gave my heart!

And, Love, alas! alas! alas! for me!
Each day you grow more fair,
Each day your face, even as the maiden moon
Thrives like a flower upon the midnight air,
Brims with more beauty like a silver spring;
Ah! love, but how compare to anything
Beauty beyond description or compare!
A face which as its eager captive takes
A soul like mine, and such a great heart breaks:
O face of faces, think how fair must be
The face that conquers HAFIZ—O my moon!