An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 428
At the hour of dawn, still hung over from the night before,
I took up the wine with harp and chaghana,
I set out reason's travel-store from the wine,
and sent it forth from the city of its being.
The wine-selling idol gave me one coquettish glance,
such that I grew safe from the treachery of the age.
From the bow-browed cupbearer I heard these words:
'O you, the very target of the arrow of reproach —
'You will bind no belt-corner about that waist of hers,
if once you see yourself as you truly stand in the midst.'
'Go — set this snare of yours for some other bird,
for the Anqa's nest is built too high to reach.'
'Who could bind the corner of union with a king of beauty
who plays the game of love eternally with Himself alone?'
Boon-companion, minstrel, cupbearer — all of it is He;
the fancy of water and clay is but a pretext on the road.
Give me the ship of wine, that we may sail with joy
out of this sea that seems to have no shore.
Our very being is a riddle, Hafez —
whose unravelling is but a spell and a fable.