Thy chin's deep pit allures the lofty mind:
The hand would grasp thy locks in twines entwined,
Háfiz his love-scroll
To Thyself addressed,
When he had cancelled
What his heart loved best.
LXXXVIII
The preacher of the town will find my language hard, maybe:
While bent upon deceit and fraud, no Mussulman is he.
Learn drinking and do gracious deeds; the merit is not great
If a mere brute shall taste not wine, and reach not man's estate.
Efficient is the Name Divine; be of good cheer, O heart!
The dív becomes not Solomon by guile and cunning's art.
The benisons of Heaven are won by purity alone:
Else would not pearl and coral spring from every clod and stone?
CI
Angels I saw at night knock at the wine-house gate:
They shaped the clay of Adam, flung into moulds its weight.
Spirits of the Unseen World of Purities divine,
With me an earth-bound mortal, poured forth their 'wildering wine.