An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 418
Though the sword should rain in the street of that moon,
we have bowed down our necks — the judgment is God's alone.
The rite of piety we too know well;
yet what remedy against a fortune gone astray?
We know but little of shaikh and of preacher;
either the cup of wine — or make the tale short.
I, the rend and the lover, in the season of the rose —
and then repentance? God forgive!
Your love cast not one reflection upon us,
O mirror-cheeked one — alas, from your heart, alas!
'Patience is bitter, and this life is fleeting;
would that I knew — until when shall be the meeting?'
Hafez, why lament? If you would have union,
you must drink blood in season and out of season.