An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 224
Happy the heart that never chases an idle glance,
that runs not heedless to every door where it is called.
Better were it that I set no craving upon that sweet lip;
yet how should the fly not seek out the sugar?
Wash not with tears the darkness of my grief-worn eye,
for the imprint of your mole shall never leave my sight.
Withhold not from me your fragrance, like the dawn breeze,
for without the head of your tress my affair comes to no end.
O heart, be not so idly roaming, so everywhere at once,
for by such craft no work of yours goes forward.
Cast not the eye of contempt on me, the drunkard,
for the honor of the Law will not be lessened by so much.
I, a beggar, long for one of cypress-stature
round whose waist no hand may reach but by silver and gold.
You, who in nobleness of nature are a world apart,
the keeping of my covenant will not slip from your mind.
I see none whose ledger is blacker than my own;
how, like my pen, should the heart's smoke not rise to my head?
By the crown of my hoopoe, lead me not astray, for the white falcon
stoops not, like the sparrowhawk, at every paltry prey.
Bring wine, and set it first in Hafez's hand,
on the pledge that the word go not beyond this assembly.