An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 485
Cupbearer, here is the cloud's shade, spring, and the stream's edge;
I say not what to do — if you are a man of heart, you say it yourself.
No scent of sincerity rises from this design — arise,
wash the Sufi's stained cloak in the pure vintage.
The world is base of nature — lean not on its bounty;
O world-tried one, seek no firm footing from the base.
Two counsels I give you — hear, and carry off a hundred treasures:
enter by pleasure's door, and tread not the road of blame.
In thanks that once again you have reached the spring,
plant the root of goodness, and seek the road of truth.
If you seek the Friend's face, make the mirror fit to receive it;
else rose and eglantine never sprout from iron and brass.
Open your ear, for the nightingale in lament is saying:
“Master, fall not short — inhale the rose of divine favor.”
You said: “From our Hafez rises the scent of hypocrisy”;
bravo to your keen breath, that you scented the scent so well!