An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 72
A road there is, the road of love, and it has no far shore;
there no deliverance is found save yielding up the soul.
Whenever you surrender your heart to love, the hour is sweet;
in a work of good there is no need to cast the augury.
Fright us not with the interdict of reason — bring the wine,
for that night-watchman holds no writ within our own domain.
Ask of your own eye who it is that lays us in the grave —
my soul, it is no fault of fortune, and no crime of stars.
He may be seen, like the new moon, with none but an eye made pure;
not every eye can be the theatre of that shard of moon.
Seize as your chance the way of the rend, for this hidden sign,
like the road to buried treasure, lies not plain to every man.
Weeping laid no least hold on you, O Hafez, by any means;
dumbfounded stands my heart, which is no softer than hard flint.