Ode CLXVI

Knowest thou what fortune is?
'Tis Beauty's sight obtaining;
'Tis asking in her lane for alms,
And royal pomp disdaining.

Sev'erance from the wish for life an easy task is ever;
But lose we friends who sweeten life, the tie is hard to sever.

Bud-like with a serried heart I'll to the orchard wander;
The garment of my good repute I'll tear to pieces yonder;

Now, as doth the West-wind, tell deep secrets to the Flower,
Hear now of Love's mysterious sport from bulbuls of the bower.

Kiss thy Beloved one's lips at first while the occasion lingers:
Await thou else disgust at last from biting lip and fingers.

Profit by companionship: this two-doored house forsaken,
No pathway that can thither lead in future time is taken.

Háfiz from the thought, it seems,
Of Sháh Mansur has fleeted;
O Lord! remind him that the poor
With favor should be treated.