An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 239
Glad tidings came: spring has arrived and the green has sprung;
should the stipend come, its spending is rose and wine.
The bird's whistle has risen — where is the wine-flask now?
A cry has fallen upon the nightingale: who tore the rose's veil?
What relish does he gather of the fruits of paradise
who has not bitten the apple of a fair one's chin?
Complain not of your grief, for on the road of seeking
he never came to ease who bore no toil.
From the face of the moon-like cupbearer pluck a rose today,
for around the garden's cheek the violet's down has sprung.
So did the cupbearer's coquetry bear my heart from my hand
that with any other I have no means to speak and be heard.
I will burn this gaudy patched cloak like the rose,
for the wine-selling Elder would not buy it for a single draught.
Spring is passing — O dispenser of justice, take heed,
for the season goes, and Hafez has not yet tasted the wine.