Ode 570

A THOUSAND ways, beloved, have I sought
That thou shouldst be my own true love and friend;
Fulfiller of fond hopes—yea! so I thought;
My answer unto prayer, my journey's end;
All this and so much more did I intend
That thou shouldst be.

That thou shouldst come—it was my phantasy—
One starry night, where we poor lovers dwell,
And all my sorrow with thine own eyes see—
My vigil share, and make thy bed in hell,
Know all the torments of my martyrdom,
And learn how long the nights are without thee:
Then to my heart—my heart I dared to tell—
That thou shouldst come.

My comrade and my counsellor I said
That thou shouldst be, the safe abiding-place
Of all the secrets of my heart and head;
Dear fawn, how all unworthy of the chase
The sun's gazelle himself would seem to me
Wert thou but quarry to my venery!
Proudly let other queens number their host
Of beauty-bondsmen, if but I might boast
The imperious regent of my lowly fate
That thou shouldst be.

Better for HAFIZ had he not been born,
Unless thou be his comrade and his mate;
He 's not the value of a barley-corn
Unless thou be.