Scold not, Zahid, pious zealot

Scold not, Zahid, pious zealot
That we love and sing and drink,
Surely sins of others will not
In your book be writ, we think!

If I’m good, if evil rather--
Mind your own affairs, Good Friend,
Everyone the fruit must gather
That he sows when comes the end.

You can never be quite certain
That I’m shut from Heaven’s book;
Did you ever through a curtain
See how people’s faces look?

Whether you drink or do not drink,
Everyone a friend will search,
And love find there where you least think,
In mosque, synagogue and church.

Surely I lift not the first, Sir,
To forbidden fruit my eyes,
For this God sent my ancestor
From the fields of Paradise.

Sleep is sweet on Eden’s pillows,
But I warn you to be wise
And the shadows of our willows
Here in Shiraz learn to prize.

Upon Fortune’s favors build not,
Can it matter what you do?
On the first day was your fate wrought
And your future written through.

Hafiz, whene’er death shall call you,
If your hand should hold the cup,
From this Wine House they will take you
Where the wise men laugh and sup.