An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 229
Fortune yields me no sign of the Friend's mouth;
good luck brings me no word of the hidden mystery.
For a single kiss from her lip I keep surrendering my soul;
this she keeps taking, yet that she will not give.
I died in this parting, and to that veil there is no road —
or there is, and the veil-keeper vouchsafes me no sign.
The dawn breeze drew back her tress — behold the base sphere,
that grants me there no scope to court the very wind.
However far I circled the rim, like the compass,
the turning wheel, like the fixed point, bars me the center.
Sweetness comes at last to the hand through patience, yet
the age's treachery grants me no respite of time.
I said: I will go to sleep and behold the Friend's beauty;
but sighing and lament, O Hafez, grant me no rest.