An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 134
A nightingale drank a heart's-worth of blood and won at last one rose;
the wind of envy with a hundred thorns cast all its heart in disarray.
A parrot rejoiced in the mere fancy of a lump of sugar's sweet;
then, all at once, annihilation's flood washed out the image of its hope.
The light of my eye, that fruit of the heart — his memory be kept —
how lightly he took leave, and left my every task grown hard.
Cameleer, my burden's fallen — for God's sake, some helping hand! —
for hope of your bounty made me fellow to this litter's road.
Scorn not my face of dust, nor the wet trembling on my eye;
from this clay and straw the turquoise wheel has built its house of mirth.
Sigh and cry aloud! — for by the envious eye of the heaven's moon,
the moon of my bow-arched brow has made her dwelling in the grave.
You failed to play the rook's bold move, and lost your chance, O Hafez;
what can I do? The gambling of the days has made me miss my turn.