Of dervishes.

O, vaunter of thy riches' pride! lay all thy vanity aside,
And know that health and wealth abide but by the will
Of dervishes.

Korah lost all his treasured store, which, cursed of Heaven, sinks
daily more,
(Hast thou not heard this tale of yore?) from disregard
Of dervishes,[31]

The smiling face of joy unknown, yet sought by tenants of a throne,
Is only in the mirror shown of the clear face
Of dervishes.

Let but our Asaf's eye request, I am the slave of his behest,
For though his looks his rank attest, he has the mind
Of dervishes.

Hafiz, if of the tide thou think, which makes immortal those who drink,
Seek in the dust that fountain's brink, at the cell door
Of dervishes.

Hafiz, while here on earth, be wise:
He who to empire's rule would rise,
Knows that his upward pathway lies
Through his regard
Of dervishes.

XXXI

In blossom is the crimson rose, and the rapt bulbul trills his song;
A summons that to revel calls you, O Sufis, wine-adoring throng!

The fabric of my contrite fervor appeared upon a rock to bide;
Yet see how by a crystal goblet it hath been shattered in its pride.

Bring wine; for to a lofty spirit, should they at its tribunal be,
What were the sentry, what the Sultan, the toper, or the foe of glee?

Forth from this hostel of two portals as finally thou needs must go,
What of the porch and arch of Being be of high span or meanly low?

To bliss' goal we gain not access, if sorrow has been tasted not;
Yea, with Alastu's pact was coupled the sentence of our baleful lot.

At Being and Non-being fret not; but either with calm temper see:
Non-being is the term appointed for the most lovely things that be.

Asaf's display, the airy courser, the language which the birds employed,
The wind has swept; and their possessor no profit from his wealth
enjoyed.[32]

Oh! fly not from thy pathway upward, for the winged shaft that quits
the bow
A moment to the air has taken, to settle in the dust below.

What words of gratitude, O Hafiz
Shall thy reed's tongue express anon,
As its choice gems of composition
From hands to other hands pass on?

XXXV

Now on the rose's palm the cup with limpid wine is brimming,
And with a hundred thousand tongues the bird her praise is hymning.

Ask for a song-book, seek the wild, no time is this