XX
From out the street of So-and-So,
Oh wind, bring perfumes sweet to me!
For I am sick and pale with woe;
Oh bring me rest from misery!
The dust that lies before her door,
Love’s long desired elixir, pour
Upon this wasted heart of mine—
Bring me a promise and a sign!
Between the ambush of mine eyes
And my heart’s fort there’s enmity—
Her eye-brow’s bow, the dart that flies,
Beneath her lashes, bring to me!
Sorrow and absence, glances cold,
Before my time have made me old;
A wine-cup from the hand of Youth
Bring me for pity and for ruth!
Then shall all unbelievers taste
A draught or two of that same wine;
But if they like it not, oh haste!
And let joy’s flowing cup be mine.
Cup-bearer, seize to-day, nor wait
Until to-morrow!—or from Fate
Some passport to felicity,
Some written surety bring to me!
My heart threw back the veil of woe,
Consoled by Hafiz’ melody:
From out the street of So-and-So,
Oh wind, bring perfumes sweet to me!