An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 249
O breeze, bring a breath of fragrance from the dust of the Friend's road;
carry off my heart's grief, and bring glad tidings of the Beloved.
Speak a soul-quickening word from the mouth of the Friend;
bring a letter of good news from the world of mysteries.
That I may perfume my nostril by the grace of your breeze,
bring a hint of the exhalations of the Friend's breath.
By your faith — the dust of that precious Friend's road,
bring it clear of any mote that comes from the strangers.
A dust from the Friend's passing, to blind the rival's eye,
bring for the ease of this blood-weeping eye of mine.
Rawness and simple-heartedness are not the soul-gambler's way;
bring me word from the presence of that cunning heart-ravisher.
In thanks that you dwell in joy, O bird of the meadow,
bring to the cage's captives the glad tidings of the rose-bed.
My soul's desire grew bitter from the patience I kept without the Friend;
bring a coquetry from that sweet, sugar-raining lip.
An age has passed since my heart beheld the face of its goal;
cupbearer, bring that cup that serves as a mirror.
What is the cloak of Hafez worth? Stain it bright with wine,
and then bring him, drunk and undone, from the head of the bazaar.