An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 205
As long as name and sign remain of the tavern and the wine,
our head shall be the very dust upon the Magian Elder's road.
The ring of the Magian Elder's bond is in my ear from all eternity;
we are the very same we were, and just the same we still shall be.
When you pass by our humble grave, then offer up a high resolve,
for it shall be the pilgrim-shrine where the world's rends come to pray.
Go your way, self-seeing ascetic—for from the eyes of you and me
the secret of this veil lies hid, and hidden it shall ever be.
My lover-slaying, drunken Turk went striding out into the world today;
now let us see whose crimson blood again shall pour from weeping eyes.
My eye, the moment that it lays its head within the tomb for you,
shall stay wide-watching, wakeful still, until the dawn-breath of Doomsday.
If Hafez' fortune deigns to lend its aid to me in such a wise,
the tress of the beloved will be pressed within another's grasping hand.