An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 27
Into the Magians' convent came my love, a cup in hand,
drunk with wine, and the wine-drinkers drunk with her drunken eye.
In the shoe of her steed the shape of the new moon appears;
and beside her tall stature the cypress's height is low.
How at last shall I say 'I am,' when I have no word of myself?
And why say 'I am not,' when my whole gaze is with her?
The candle of my companion heart went out when she rose;
and the wail of the onlookers rose up when she sat.
If civet grew fragrant, it was twined within her hair;
if the indigo turned bow-drawer, it joined itself to her brow.
Come back, that Hafez's departed life may come back —
though the arrow once loosed from the thumb-stall returns no more.