beauty blest,
Of slender shape, of lunar face, in Turk-like tunic drest!

With a fierce glow within me lit--in amorous frenzy lost--
A culinary pot am I, in ebullition tost.

My nature as a shirt's would be, at all times free from smart,
If like yon tunic garb I pressed the wearer to my heart.

At harshness I have ceased to grieve, for none to light can bring
A rose that is apart from thorns, or honey void of sting.

The framework of this mortal form may rot within the mould,
But in my soul a love exists which never shall grow cold.

My heart and faith, my heart and faith--of old they were unharmed,
Till by yon shoulders and yon breast, yon breast and shoulders charmed.

Hafiz, a medicine for thy woe,
A medicine must thou sip,
No other than that lip so sweet,
That lip so sweet, that lip.

CXXXIV

Although upon his moon-like cheek delight and beauty glow,
Nor constancy nor love is there: O Lord! these gifts bestow.

A child makes war against my heart; and he in sport one day
Will put me to a cruel death, and law shall not gainsay.

What seems for my own good is this: my heart from him to guard;
For one who knows not good from ill its guardianship were hard.

Agile and sweet of fourteen years that idol whom I praise:
His ear-rings in her soul retains the moon of fourteen days.

A breath as the sweet smell of milk comes from those sugary lips;
But from those black and roguish eyes behold what blood there drips!

My heart to find that new-born rose has gone upon its way;
But where can it be found, O Lord? I've lost it many a day.

If the young friend who owns my heart my centre thus can break,
The Pasha will command him soon the lifeguard's rank to take.

I'd sacrifice my life in thanks,
If once that pearl of sheen
Would make the shell of Hafiz' eye
Its place of rest serene.

CXXXV

I tried my fortune in this city lorn:
From out its whirlpool must my pack be borne.

I gnaw my hand, and, heaving sighs of ire,
I light in my rent frame the rose's fire.

Sweet sang the bulbul at the close of day,
The rose attentive on her leafy spray:

"O heart! be joyful, for thy ruthless Love
Sits down ill-temper'd at the sphere above.

"To make the false, harsh world thyself pass o'er,
Ne'er promise falsely and be harsh no more.

"If beat misfortune's waves upon heaven's roof,
Devout men's fat