An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 30
Your tress bound a thousand hearts with a single strand of hair;
it barred the way of a thousand remedy-seekers from all four sides.
That lovers might yield their souls at the scent of its breeze,
it loosed a musk-pod and bound them fast in longing.
I lost my wits, because my idol, like the new moon,
showed a brow, made her display, and then closed her face.
The cupbearer poured wine of many hues into the cup;
behold these figures — how fair he has bound them in the gourd.
O Lord, what a coquettish glance the flask let fly, that the jar's blood
— with its gurgling cries — it bound within its throat.
What mode did the minstrel make, that within the veil of the samā'
upon the folk of ecstasy he shut the door in an uproar?
Hafez — whoever practiced no love and yet sought union
bound the pilgrim-garb for the heart's Kaaba without ablution.