An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 425
Trailing her skirt she went, in a robe of woven gold;
a hundred moon-faces, in envy, rent their silken collar.
From the heat of the fire of wine, about her cheek the sweat
dripped, like the beads of dew upon the rose's petal.
An eloquent, sweet word; a tall and nimble stature;
a fine and lovely face; a fair, long-drawn-out eye.
Her soul-refreshing ruby lip, born of the water of grace;
her sweetly-swaying box-tree form, nurtured in tenderness.
Behold that heart-alluring ruby, and that heart-troubling laugh;
behold that pleasant gait of hers, and that composed, calm step.
That black-eyed gazelle has broken out of our snare;
friends, what cure shall I devise for this so startled heart?
Take heed — as much as you can, vex not the people of insight;
the world keeps no faith, O light of both my eyes.
How long shall I bear reproach from your heart-beguiling eye?
One day, O chosen Friend, bestow one coquettish glance.
If your noble mind has taken offence at Hafez,
come back — for we have repented of the said and the heard.
Much thanks I'll tell over, in the Master's service,
if that ripened fruit should ever fall into my hand.