An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 473
Count the moment a prize, as far as you are able;
the yield of life, O soul, is this one breath — did you but know.
The wish-granting sky holds your life ready in exchange;
strive, that from fortune you may claim the tribute of joy.
Gardener, when I pass on from here, may it be forbidden you
to plant in my place any cypress but the Friend.
The relish of wine will slay the repentant ascetic;
O wise one, do no deed that brings on remorse.
The constable does not know this much: that the Sufi
keeps home-made goods, red as the pomegranate ruby.
Contend not, O sugar-lipped one, with the night-risers' prayer;
in the shelter of a single Name lies Solomon's seal-ring.
Heed the lovers' counsel and turn back from the door of worldly mirth,
for all of this is not worth the toil of a perishing world.
My dear Joseph is gone — O brothers, have mercy!
for in grief of him I see, made strange, the state of the Elder of Canaan.
Before the ascetic breathe no word of roguery, for one cannot tell
a hidden pain to a physician who shares no secret.
You pass, and your lashes shed the blood of the people;
you go too swiftly, my soul — I fear you will be left behind.
I guarded my heart from your eye's arrow; and yet
your bow-bending brow bears it off to the forehead.
Gather up, with one kindness, distracted Hafez,
O you, the coil of whose tress is the very hive of distraction.
If you are free of us, O stony-hearted idol,
I will tell my own state before the second Asaf.