An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 136
No hand can slip into the coil of that twice-folded tress;
no man can lean his weight upon your vow and the dawn-wind's breath.
Whatever striving lies in me, I'll spend it seeking you;
yet this much holds: no mortal can amend the writ of fate.
The Friend's hem came into my grasp at the cost of a hundred bloods of the heart;
for all the mockery of the foe, that hem I will not loose.
Her cheek you cannot liken, even so, to heaven's moon;
the Friend you cannot set beside each low and footless thing.
When my cypress-slender one steps forth into the whirling dance,
how slight the garment of the soul, that will not serve to fling aside!
Only the unstained gaze can look upon the loved one's face,
for in the mirror none may see save through the eye of purity.
The riddle of love lies far beyond the compass of our lore;
this subtle knot no erring thought of ours can ever loose.
Envy has slain me — you are the beloved of a world; and yet
one cannot night and day pick quarrels with the creatures of one's God.
What can I say? — so delicate, so fine your temper is,
that even softly to breathe a prayer for you might do you wrong.
Save your arched brow there is no prayer-niche for the heart of Hafez;
our creed permits us to bow down to no one else but you.