To solve the riddle none were meant to solve.
For every flower that in the meadow blows,
Is like a book God opened to confess on
His secret purpose. But canst read the lesson
Writ in the purple petals of the rose?
And yet, O Hafiz! thou that talkest so wise
Of prudence, and of patience, and compassion,
Thy heart is all on fire with foolish passion
For one fair face and two tormenting eyes.