A poem for you

My bosom grac`d with each gay flow`r.
I grasp the bowl, my nymph in glee;
The monarch of the world this hour,
Is but a slave compare`d to me.

Intrude not with the taper`s light,
My social friends, with beaming eyes;
Trundle around a starry night,
And lo! my nymph the moon supplies.

Away, thy sprinkling odours spare,
Be not officiously thus kind;
The waving ringlets of my Fair,
Shed perfume to the fainting wind.

My ears th` enlivening notes inspire,
As lute or harp alternate sound;
My eyes those ruby lips admire,
Or each the glasses sparkling round.

Then let no moments steal away,
Without thy mistress and thy wine;
The spring flowers blossom to decay,
And youth but glows to own decline.

Hafiz (one of the greatest Iranian poet)
Thomas law