If a sweet Turkish maid I know

If a sweet Turkish maid I know
In Shiraz were mine heart and hand,
For her cheek’s mole I would bestow
Both Bokhara and Samarcand.

Drink wine! Both life and wine are sweet;
For what grove as Mosella’s fair?
As Roknabad no stream is fleet
In Paradise nor anywhere.

Oh! Beauty storms upon my soul
As robber Turk upon his prey;
It steals my heart, my peace--my soul--
And soon ’twill steal my mind away.

Of wine, pray, talk, of song, of love--
Upon that other world build not!
No one has come back from above,
Not prophet, saint, nor wise man not.

I’ve heard of Suleika forsooth
Who threw aside all wifely shame
Because of Beauty’s bounteous youth,
And unchastely to Jusuf came.

Vexed are you, Child? Then be it so.
Even cruel words become you well!
Upon your ruby lips I know
I could not sweet from bitter tell!

A little listen to me, pray--
Advice from age to youth is meet--
Should any bond o’er you hold sway
Be sure it is made of roses, Sweet!

Oh! you weave well your pearls of song,
Good Hafiz! May earth treasure you.
May Pleiades who gleaming throng
Weave golden gowns to pleasure you!