When Allah mixed my clay, He knew full well
My future acts, and could each one foretell;

Nothing without His fiat can I do;

Is it then just to punish me in hell?

تلكرا

56. (102.)

If grace be grace and Allah gracious be,
Adam from Paradise why banished He?

In

Grace to poor sinners shown is grace indeed d; grace hard earned by works no grace I see.

57. (103.)

Dame Fortune's smiles are full of guile, beware!
Her scimitar is sharp to smite, take care!
If e'er she drop a sweetmeat in thy mouth,
'Tis poisonous, to swallow it forbear!

58. (104.)

Where'er you see a rose or tulip bed,

Know that a mighty monarch's blood was shed;
And where the violet rears her purple tuft,
Be sure a black-moled girl doth rest her head.

Wine is a melting ruby, cup its mine;

Cup is the body and the soul is wine;

These goblets smile with wine of ruddy hue, Like tears, that blood of wounded hearts enshrine.

60. (107.)

Drink wine! long must you sleep within the tomb,
Without a friend, or wife to cheer your gloom;
Hear what I say, and tell it not again,
Never again can withered tulips bloom."

61. (108.)

They preach how sweet those Houri brides will be,

But I say wine is sweeter-taste and see!

Hold fast this cash, and let that credit go,

And shun the din of empty drums like me.

62. (109.)

Once and again my soul did me implore,
To teach her, if I might, the heavenly lore;
I bade her learn the Alif well by heart.

Who knows that letter well need learn no more.

I came not hither of my own free-will,
And go against my wish, a puppet still;

Cupbearer! gird thy loins, and fetch some wine; To purge the world's despite, my goblet fill.

64. (112.)

Sweet is the breath of spring to rose's face,
And thy sweet face adds charm to this fair place ;
To-day is sweet, but yesterday is sad,
And sad all mention of its parted grace.

65. (113.)

To-night pour wine, and sing a dulcet air,
And I upon thy lips will hang, O fair;

Yea, pour some wine as rosy as thy cheeks,
My mind is troubled like thy ruffled hair.

66. (114.)

Pen, tablet, heaven and hell I looked to see
Above the skies from all eternity;

At last the master-sage instructed me,

"Pen, tablet, heaven and hell are all in thee."

67. (115.)

The fruit of certitude he cannot pluck,

The path that leads thereto who never struck,
Nor ever shook the bough with strenuous hand;
To-day is lost; hope for to-morrow's luck.

68. (116.)

Now spring-tide showers its foison on the land,
And lively hearts wend forth, a joyous band,

For 'Isa's breath wakes the dead earth to life,
And trees gleam white with flowers, like Musa's hand.

69. (117.)

Alas for that cold heart, which never glows
With love, nor e'er that charming madness knows;
The days misspent with no redeeming love ;-
No days are wasted half so much as those!

70. (126.)

The Master did himself these vessels frame,

Why should he cast them out to scorn and shame ?

If he has made them well, why should he break them?

Yea, though he marred them, they are not to blame.

D

Khe.

71. (134.)

When life is spent, what's Balkh or Nishapore?

What sweet or bitter, when the cup runs o'er?

Come drink! full many a moon will wax and wane

In times to come, when we are here no more.