An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 489
O you, in whose face the lights of kingship are made plain,
in whose thought a hundred divine wisdoms lie hidden —
Your pen — God bless it — has opened upon realm and faith
a hundred springs of the Water of Life from a drop of black ink.
The lights of the Greatest Name shine not upon the Ahriman;
the realm is yours, the seal-ring yours — command whatever you will.
Whoever casts a doubt on Solomon's wisdom,
at his reason and learning bird and fish will laugh.
Though the falcon, now and then, sets a cap upon its head,
the birds of Qaf still know the rite of kingship.
A sword to which the sky lends the water of its grace
seizes the world alone, without the favor of an army.
Your pen writes finely of friend and stranger alike —
a soul-reviving amulet, a life-consuming spell.
O you, whose essence is wrought of the alchemy of honor,
and O you, whose fortune is safe from the blemish of decay —
Cupbearer, bring a draught of water from the tavern's fount,
that we may wash our cloaks of the cloister's self-conceit.
An age it is, O king, that my cup stands empty of wine;
here is the plea from the slave, and the witness from the constable.
If one ray from your sword should fall on the mine and the vein,
they would give the red ruby the pallor of straw.
I know your heart would pity the helplessness of the night-sitters,
if you asked of the slave's condition from the dawn breeze.
In a place where the lightning of rebellion struck the chosen Adam,
how should the claim of sinlessness become us?
Hafez, since your king now and then speaks your name,
show no vexation at fate — turn back and make amends.