An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 99
My heart, in longing for the face of Farrokh,
lay all distraught, like the very hair of Farrokh.
None but the Hindu of his tress has ever
tasted the joy of the face of Farrokh.
Fortunate is that dark one who is ever
the confidant and knee-companion of Farrokh.
The free cypress turns trembling as the willow,
if it beholds the heart-alluring stature of Farrokh.
Pour, cupbearer, the Judas-tree-red wine,
in memory of the enchanting narcissus of Farrokh.
My stature is bent double like a bow,
by ceaseless grief, like the very brow of Farrokh.
The breath of Tartar musk was put to shame
by the ambergris-scented fragrance of the tress of Farrokh.
If the heart of each man leans toward some place,
then my own heart's leaning is toward Farrokh.
I am the slave of the aspiration of him who is,
like Hafez, the servant and the Hindu of Farrokh.