When life's fresh spring returns upon the daïs mead,
O night-bird! o'er thy head the rose shall spread:
Despair not,
Hope on, though things unseen may baffle thy research;
Mysterious sports we hail beyond the veil:
Despair not.
Has the revolving Sphere two days opposed thy wish,
Know that the circling Round is changeful found:
Despair not.
If on the Ka'bah bent, thou brave the desert sand,
Though from the acacias thorn thy foot be torn,
Despair not,
Heart, should the flood of death life's fabric sweep away,
Noah shall steer the ark o'er billows dark:
Despair not,
Though perilous the stage, though out of sight the goal,
Whither soe'er we wend, there is an end:
Despair not,
If Love evades our grasp, and rivals press our suit,
God, Lord of every change, surveys the range:
Despair not.
Háfiz, in thy poor nook—
Alone, the dark night through—
Prayer and the Koran's page
Shall grief assuage—
Despair not.
CXXIX
Endurance, intellect, and peace have from my bosom flown,
Lured by an idol's silver ear-lobes, and its heart of stone.