Ode 572

MY heart in prison is—in Selma's hair;
Her two thick locks hold it securely bound;
And day and night, with a most mournful sound,
Cries and laments the wretched prisoner.

O God, take pity on me, whose sad heart
Is thus deprived of his sweet liberty;
Selma, vouchsafe me union with thee,
Nor thou too with my enemies take part.

Who says I love not Selma is a liar;
Who loves not Selma has not Selma seen,
Else he too in the same sad case had been—
Drowned in the same o'erwhelming sea of fire.

Selma, my soul I 'll place beneath thy heel
If aught in me hath done my Selma wrong;
Thine eye sees not, and talks astray thy tongue
Who the like pain as mine can never feel.

Selma, on God alone must I rely;
Black is the starless night of Selma's hair;
HAFIZ is lost in the dark windings there:
God be my guide—no other friend have I.