An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 145
What drunkenness is this — I cannot tell — that turned its face toward us?
Who was the cupbearer, and from what quarter came this wine?
You too, take up the wine in hand and set out toward the open plain,
for the sweet song-singing bird has brought a fair-toned instrument along.
O heart, like the tight bud, make no complaint of a bound and thwarted lot,
for the wind of morning has borne in a breeze that loosens every knot.
May the coming of rose and briar be for goodness and for grace;
the violet arrived in joy and beauty, the jasmine brought its purity.
The breeze, in bearing happy news, is Solomon's own hoopoe now,
for it has brought glad tidings of delight from Sheba's rose-domain.
The cure for the faintness of our heart is but the cupbearer's coy glance;
lift up your head — the healer has arrived, and brought the remedy.
I am the disciple of the Magian Elder — take no offence at me, O shaikh,
for you but made the promise, while it was he who kept it whole.
I glory in the narrow eye of that campaigning Turk of war,
who mounted his assault on me, a dervish of a single cloak.
The sphere will do its slavish service now to Hafez, and right gladly,
for he has borne his refuge home to the doorway of your fortune.