An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 153
At dawn, when the Khosrow of the east set his banner on the peaks,
with the hand of mercy my beloved knocked at the door of those who hope.
When it grew as plain as shining morn what the sphere's love is worth,
a lovely laugh rang out, and struck at the pride of the fortunate.
Last night, when my idol in the throng rose up with mind to dance,
she loosed the knot from off her brow and struck the hearts of the friends.
In that same hour I washed my hands in heart's-blood of the hue of virtue,
when her wine-measuring eye rang out its summons on the sober.
What iron-hearted one has taught her this artful trade of the rogue,
who from the first, the moment she stepped out, waylaid the vigil-keepers' road?
My poor heart hatched the fancy of the horseman, and was lost of a sudden;
O Lord, keep watch and guard it, for it charged the riders' massing centre.
In the tint and lustre of her cheek what soul we spent, what blood we drank —
for the moment her image took its shape, it marked its first sign on the soul-surrenderers.
How shall I, with my cloak of coarse wool, bring her into the lasso's coil —
she whose lash, a chain-mail forged of hair, waylaid the dagger-bearers' road?
The gaze is fixed on the lot of triumph and the good star of the king's fair fortune;
grant Hafez his heart's desire, for he has cast the omen of the blest.
The victorious king of kings, Shuja of realm and faith, the Mansur-crowned,
whose bounty, never grudging, laughed outright at the clouds of spring;
From the very hour the cup of wine was ennobled by his hand,
the age struck up the goblet of joy in memory of the wine-drinkers.
From his head-scattering sword the victory shone forth on that day
when, like the star-consuming sun, alone he struck at thousands.
Ask, O heart, from the grace of the True One length of his life and reign,
for the sphere has struck this coin of fortune to ring through the turning ages.