Hafiz (Bell), Poem 3

Wind from the east, oh Lapwing of the day,
I send Thee to my Lady, though the way
Is far to Saba, where I bid thee fly;
Lest in the dust Thy tameless wings should lie,
Broken with grief, I send thee to thy nest,
Fidelity.
Or far or near there is no halting-place
Upon Love’s road—absent, I see Thy face,
And in Thine ear my wind-blown greetings sound,
North winds and east waft them where they are bound,
Each morn and eve convoys of greeting fair
I send to Thee.
Unto mine eyes a stranger, thou that art
A comrade ever-present to my heart,
What whispered prayers and what full meed of praise
I send to Thee.
Lest Sorrow’s army waste thy heart’s domain,
I send my life to bring Thee peace again,
Dear life Thy ransom! From Thy singers learn
How one that longs for Thee may weep and burn;
Sonnets and broken words, sweet notes and songs
I send to thee.
Give me the cup! a voice rings in mine ears
Crying: “Bear patiently the bitter years!
For all Thine ills, I send Thee heavenly grace.
God the Creator mirrored in Thy face
Thine eyes shall see, God’s image in the glass
I send to Thee.
“Hafiz, Thy praise alone my comrades sing;
Hasten to us, thou that art sorrowing!
A robe of honour and a harnessed steed
I send to thee.”