An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 326
In the hidden chamber of delight I keep a sweet-faced idol,
whose curling tress and glowing cheek set my very shoe ablaze.
A lover, a rend, a wine-drinker I am, and cry it out aloud,
and all this rank I hold as gift of that fairy-featured houri.
If you would keep me thus, undone, without a roof or refuge,
then by your dawn-drawn sigh I keep your tress in wild disorder.
If in this wise the Friend's dark down unveils and opens his cheek,
I keep a sallow face made bright with the fresh paint of blood-tears.
If you would set one step within the hovel of the rends,
I keep the sweetmeat of sugared verse and wine unmixed and pure.
Bring on the arrow of the glance, the noose of the loosened tress,
for I keep endless wars afoot with this wound-worn, grief-struck heart.
Hafez, since the grief and gladness of the world are things that pass,
far better that I keep my own glad heart untouched and light.