  Salute the summer, breathe the breath of God, Be happy while you can, for by-and-by You that are now so full of life must die, And redder roses blossom from your sod. Believe me, brother, that behind the Veil A harp is touched, and one is singing to it A song of counsel, if you only knew it; When wilt thou list, and let that song prevail? Ask not poor Hafiz to admonish you With whom you should frequent, with whom be drinking, For surely half an hour of tranquil thinking Will teach you better what you ought to do. The road that leads us to the Friend at last Is hard to travel, full of fear, temptation; But think, my brother, think of the elation In looking back along the road you’ve past. Cease this perplexing problem to revolve; Him the world clutches with a thousand fingers Who on the pathway of his purpose lingers To solve the riddle none were meant to solve. For every flower that in the meadow blows, Is like a book God opened to confess on His secret purpose. But canst read the lesson Writ in the purple petals of the rose? And yet, O Hafiz! thou that talkest so wise Of prudence, and of patience, and compassion, Thy heart is all on fire with foolish passion For one fair face and two tormenting eyes. |
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