An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 225
Cupbearer, the talk runs on of cypress, rose, and tulip,
and this debate goes forward with the three cleansing draughts.
Pour wine, for the meadow's young bride has reached the height of beauty;
the affair, this season, is furthered by the matchmaker's art.
All the parrots of India will fall to cracking sugar
from this Persian sweet that travels down to Bengal.
Behold how space and time are folded in the journey of verse,
for this night-old child treads the road of a whole year.
Behold that sorcerous eye, deceiver of the devout,
behind which the caravan of enchantment trails.
Stray not from the road at the world's coquetry, for this old hag
seats herself a temptress and departs a trickster.
The spring wind blows out of the king's rose-garden,
and from the dew wine flows into the tulip's cup.
Hafez, in your longing for Sultan Ghiyath al-Din's assembly
grow not heedless, for your affair is furthered by your lament.