Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 129
Did wine not bear the heart's grief away from our memory,
the terror of disaster would sweep our foundation from its place.
Did reason not drop anchor in the depths of drunkenness,
how would the ship carry us clear of this whirlpool of woe?
Alas — the sphere has played its unseen game with every soul,
and no one was there to snatch a single hand from the cheat.
The crossing lies through the darknesses — where is a Khizr of the road?
May the fire of deprivation not carry off our water of life.
My frail heart draws me toward the meadow for this reason:
that the soul may steal itself from death by the breeze's sweet malady.
I am the physician of love — pour wine, for this electuary
brings the heart its ease and bears the thought of error away.
Hafez burned, and no one bore his case to the Friend;
unless the breeze, for God's own sake, will carry the message.