An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 158
I, and the renouncing of the wine — what kind of tale is that?
No doubt I keep at least so much of reason and of sense.
Until this hour I did not even know the tavern's road;
or else how far, indeed, could all my chaste restraint have gone?
The ascetic, and conceit, and prayer; and I, and drink and pleading —
now let us see, of all of us, on whom your favour falls.
If the ascetic finds no way to rendship, he's excused;
love is a labour hanging wholly on the guidance sent from God.
I, who for nights on end waylaid the road of piety with drum and harp —
shall now turn my head toward that road? What kind of tale is that!
I am the bondsman of the Magian Elder, who redeems me from my folly;
whatever our Elder does is the very essence of God's grace.
Last night for this vexation I found no sleep, for a friend was saying:
'If Hafez should be drunk, then there is fair ground for complaint.'