Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 111
When the image of your face fell into the mirror of the cup,
the mystic, from the wine's laughter, fell to raw, unripe desire.
By one flash of splendour your beauty cast into the glass,
all this painted pageant fell into the mirror of our dreams.
All this glint of wine and figured image that appeared
is one radiance of the Cupbearer's cheek, fallen into the cup.
The zeal of Love cut short the tongue of every chosen one;
from where, then, did the secret of its grief fall to the vulgar mouth?
Not of my own will did I fall from the mosque to the tavern;
this was my final lot, cast on me in eternity's first pledge.
What can he do, who does not wheel with the round, like the compass —
whoever has fallen within the circling ring of the days?
In the curve of your tress my heart hung from the well of your chin;
alas, it climbed from the well only to fall in the snare.
It is over, O master, that you should find me again in the cell;
our business now has fallen to the Cupbearer's cheek and the cup's rim.
Beneath the sword of her grief one must go dancing to death,
for whoever became her slain fell out upon a fair end.
Each moment she has a new grace for me, the heart-scorched one;
behold this beggar — how worthy of her bounty he has fallen!
The Sufis are all boon-fellows and gazers upon beauty; yet
amid them all, heart-scorched Hafez fell into ill repute.