An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 46
Rose at my breast, wine in my hand, the beloved to my desire —
the sultan of the world, on such a day, is my slave.
Say: bring no candle into this gathering, for tonight
in our assembly the moon of the Friend's face is full.
In our creed wine is lawful — and yet
without your face, O rose-limbed cypress, it is forbidden.
My ear is all on the reed's word and the harp's air;
my eye all on the ruby lip and the circling cup.
In our assembly blend no perfume, for to us,
each instant, from your tresses the scent is sweet.
Speak nothing of the savour of candy or of sugar,
for my sweet delight is drawn from your sweet lip.
While the treasure of your grief keeps house in my ruined heart,
the street of the tavern is forever my abode.
Why speak of shame? — my very name is born of shame;
and why ask of name? — my shame itself is born of name.
Wine-bibbers, wanderers, rends, and gazers upon beauty are we;
and who in this city, then, is not the same as we?
Tell not the constable my failing, for he too,
just like us, is ever in quest of ceaseless joy.
Hafez, sit not one moment without wine and the beloved,
for it is the season of rose and jasmine, the feast of the fast's end.