An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 165
The love of the black-eyed ones will never leave my fevered head;
this is the decree of heaven, and it shall not be reversed.
The rival ordered torments, left no ground for reconcilement —
yet shall the dawn-risers' sigh not mount and reach the turning sphere?
On the first day of eternity no task but the rogue's love was laid on me;
whatever portion fell to me back there shall not be swelled.
For God's sake, censor, yield our tambourine and reed their outcry —
the Law's own instrument won't fall to ruin over such a tale.
This is the whole of my domain: to love her in the dark;
of clasp and kiss and close embrace — what use, since it shall not be?
Ruby wine, a place of safety, a kind beloved, a cupbearer —
O heart, when shall your fortune mend, if it will not mend now?
Wash not, O eye, the print of grief from the tablet of Hafez's breast,
for it is the wound the Friend's blade dealt, and blood's dye shall not fade.