An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 19
O breeze of dawn, where is the resting-place of the friend?
Where the abode of that lover-slaying, artful moon?
The night is dark, and ahead lies the road of the sacred valley;
where is the fire of Sinai, where the tryst of meeting?
Whoever came into the world bears the stamp of ruin;
ask in the tavern: where is the sober one?
He is worthy of glad tidings who can read a sign;
subtleties abound — where is the confidant of secrets?
Every hair of mine has a thousand affairs with you;
where are we — and where the idle faultfinder?
Ask of her ringlet, coil within coil:
where is this grief-struck, bewildered, captive heart?
Reason has run mad — where is that musky chain?
The heart withdrew to a corner from us — where is the beloved's brow?
Cupbearer and minstrel and wine — all stands ready; but
joy without the friend is not to be had — where is the friend?
Hafez, grieve not at the autumn wind in the meadow of the age;
reason it out — where is the rose without a thorn?