An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 186
If the wine-seller will but grant the rogues the thing they need,
then God will pardon all their sin and ward off calamity.
Cupbearer, pour the wine in the cup of justice, lest the beggar,
stirred to jealous wrath, should fill the world entire with woe.
Truly, out of these very griefs the glad news of safety comes,
if but a wayfarer keep faith with the covenant of the trust.
Whether pain draws near, O sage, or whether ease should come,
ascribe it not to any other, for these things God alone does.
In a workshop where there is no road for reason or for learning,
why should the feeble understanding pass its meddling judgment?
Minstrel, strike up the mode, for none has died before his hour;
and whoever will not sing this tune commits a grievous error.
We, whom love's pain and the affliction of the hangover have slain —
either the Friend's own union, or pure wine, will be our cure.
The soul is spent in the pursuit of wine, and Hafez burned in love;
where is one Jesus-breathed, to breathe us back again to life?