Of Paradise, O hermit wise, <br />Let us renounce the thought. <br />Of old therein our names of sin <br />Allah recorded not. <br /> <br />Who dear to God on earthly sod <br />No corn-grain plants, <br />The same is glad that life is had, <br />Though corn he wants. <br /> <br />Thy mind the mosque and cool kiosk, <br />Spare fast, and orisons; <br />Mine me allows the drink-house, <br />And sweet chase of the nuns. <br /> <br />O just fakeer, with brow austere, <br />Forbid me not the vine; <br />On the first day, poor Hafiz clay <br />Was kneaded up with wine. <br /> <br />He is no dervise, Heaven slights his service, <br />Who shall refuse <br />There in the banquet, to pawn his blanket <br />For Schiraz's juice. <br /> <br />Who his friend's shirt, or hem of his shirt, <br />Shall spare to pledge, <br />To him Eden's bliss and Angel's kiss <br />Shall want their edge. <br /> <br />Up, Hafiz; grace from high God's face <br />Beams on thee pure; <br />Shy then not hell, and trust thou well, <br />Heaven is secure.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-persian-of-hafiz-ii/
