Ode 524

TWO gallons of old wine, and two old friends

That know the world and well each other know,

A corner of the meadow, an old book,

A river's flow:

In such simplicity begins and ends

All that I ask of God—keep all the rest,

Luxurious world, but leave me this green nook;

I keep the best.

Unquiet are the times; in what rude hands,

Shiraz, is fallen thy beloved rose!

Yea! and these war-worn eyes of mine did see

Thy savage foes

Ride with my own true love to other lands.

So heaven repays its servants! Well, red wine

There still remains to comfort thee and me,

Old friend of mine.

Here let us sit until the storm be passed;

In all the meadows scarce is left a flower,

So fierce a whirlwind smote our little town,

Wild to devour—

Patience! God will not suffer this to last:

The times are sick, and none knows who shall cure;

Best, HAFIZ, in the cup thy griefs to drown,

And so endure.