Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 119
A heart that mirrors the Unseen and holds Jamshid's own cup —
for a signet lost a moment, what grief could it know?
Give not the treasury of your heart to the down and mole of beggars;
give it into a kingly hand, that will hold it in honour.
Not every tree can bear the tyranny of autumn;
I am slave to the cypress's high resolve, that stands so firm.
The season has come when, drunk with joy like the narcissus,
whoever has six coins lays them at the foot of the cup.
Now, like the rose, do not begrudge your gold to the price of wine,
for the Universal Mind arraigns you on a hundred counts.
No one knows the secret of the Unseen — recite no tale;
what confidant of the heart holds a road into this sanctuary?
My heart, that once boasted of detachment, now keeps a hundred trysts
with the dawn breeze, all for the scent of your tress.
Of whom shall I ask my heart's desire, when there is no heart-holder
who has both the grace of a glance and the way of bounty?
From the collar of Hafez's cloak, what profit is there to be won,
when we sought the One Eternal, and he clasps an idol?