Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 118
That one who holds the cup within his hand
holds ever the sovereignty of Jamshid.
The water by which Khizr found deathless life —
seek it in the tavern, for it holds the cup.
Yield up the soul's frayed thread into the cup,
for from it this whole thread receives its order.
We and our wine — the ascetics and their piety;
let us see toward which the Friend inclines His head.
Beyond your lip, O Cupbearer, there is none
in all this round who has a true desire.
The narcissus holds its every drunken grace
only on loan from your bewitching eye.
The telling of your cheek and tress has become
the litany my heart recites at dawn and dusk.
Upon the raw, torn breast of the afflicted
your ruby lip lays a full and perfect salt.
In the well of the chin, O soul, like Hafez,
your beauty keeps two hundred slaves in thrall.