An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 139
I laid my face upon her road, and yet she would not pass my way;
I hoped for a hundred graces, and she granted not one glance.
The torrent of my weeping bore no rancour from her heart;
upon the hardest granite not one raindrop leaves a mark.
O Lord, keep safe and guard that bold and dauntless youth,
who took no care against the arrow-sigh of those who sit apart.
Fish nor fowl found sleep last night amid my wailing cry,
yet see that wanton-eyed one — she never raised her head from sleep.
I wished to die beneath her foot, as the candle spends its flame;
she of herself would never pass by us, as the dawn wind glides.
My soul, who is that stony-hearted, worthless, craven wretch
who made not of his life a shield before the wounding of your blade?
The severed-tongued reed-pen of Hafez, there in the gathered throng,
betrayed your secret to no soul, till it gave up its own head.