An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 374
Come, that we may scatter roses, and pour the wine into the cup;
that we may split the roof of the sphere, and cast a new design.
If grief should raise an army up to shed the blood of lovers,
the cupbearer and I will charge as one, and cast its foundation down.
Into the Judas-purple wine we will pour rosewater in the cup;
into the perfume-wafting breeze we will cast sugar on the coals.
Since a sweet lute lies in your hand, strike up a sweet air, minstrel,
that clapping we may sing the ghazal, and stamping fling our heads.
O breeze, bear off the dust of our being to that lofty Presence,
that we may cast our gaze, it may be, on the vision of that king of the fair.
One vaunts his reason; another weaves his web of empty rapture;
come, that we may cast these wrangles down before the Judge.
If it is Eden's paradise you crave, come with us to the tavern,
that from the wine-jar's foot one day we may cast you into Kawthar's pool.
Fine speech and lovely singing win no prizing here in Shiraz;
come, Hafez, that we may cast ourselves into some other realm.