An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 120
I have an idol whose hyacinth curls raise a canopy round the rose;
the spring of her cheek traces a line of down in the Judas-tree's blood.
The mist of the down has veiled the sun of her cheek; O Lord,
grant her life everlasting, for hers is beauty everlasting.
When first I fell in love, I said: I have won the pearl of my goal;
I did not know what a blood-scattering surge this sea could raise.
No soul escapes your eye, for turn where I will, on every side
it lies in ambush from a corner, an arrow drawn in the bow.
When she flings out her tress like a snare over lovers' bewildered minds,
she bids the tell-tale breeze keep our secret close and hidden.
Scatter a draught on the dust, and hear the tale of the people of heart,
for it holds many a legend of Jamshid and of Kaykhosraw.
When the rose smiles in your face, O nightingale, fall not to its snare,
for there is no trusting the rose, though it wear the beauty of the world.
For God's sake, win me my justice from her, O warden of the feast,
for she has drunk with another, and turns a heavy head to me.
If you bind me to your saddle, for God's sake take your quarry quick,
for delay is full of perils, and it works the seeker loss.
Deny not my eye your heart-alluring, cypress-tall stature;
seat it beside this spring, for it holds sweet, running water.
Set me safe from the dread of parting, if you would have this hope:
that God keep you safe forever from the eye of those who wish you ill.
What plea for my own fortune can I make, that the city-storming rogue
slew Hafez with all her bitterness, and holds but sugar in her mouth?