O burden not thyself with drudgery,
Lord of white silver and red gold to be;
But feast with friends, ere this warm breath of thine
Be chilled in death, and earthworms feast on thee.
The showers of grape-juice, which cupbearers pour,
Quench fires of grief in many a sad heart's core
Praise be to Allah, who hath sent this balm
To heal sore hearts, and spirits' health restore!
203. C. L. N. A. B. I. In line 1 some MSS. reads bakhak. Didayi garm, «eyes of anguish.» Scan garm atishi (Alif i wasl).
Can alien Pharisees Thy kindness tell,
Like us, Thy intimates, who nigh Thee dwell?
Thou say'st, «All sinners will I burn with fire.»
Say that to strangers, we know Thee too well.