An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 466
This patched cloak I wear were better pawned for wine,
and this book, void of meaning, better drowned in the pure vintage.
Since I have squandered my life — the more I searched, the plainer it grew —
better that I lie ruined in the tavern's corner.
Since prudent scheming lies far from the dervish path,
better a breast brimful of fire and an eye brimful of tears.
The ascetic's condition I will not tell the crowd;
this tale, if told at all, were better told to harp and rebab.
While the wheeling sky stays reckless and lawless,
better the Cupbearer's longing in the head, and wine in hand.
From a heart-thief such as you I will not tear my heart — no;
if suffer torment I must, better it come from that curling tress.
Since you have grown old, Hafez, step out from the tavern;
roguery and desire sat better in the days of youth.