Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 130
At dawn the nightingale poured out its tale to the breeze:
'What deeds the love of the rose's face has wrought upon us!'
From that hue of her cheek, blood dropped into my heart,
and from that rose-garden she left me afflicted with the thorn.
I am the slave of the high resolve of that graceful one
who did a deed of good without show or hypocrisy.
No longer will I lament the strangers of the world,
for whatever was done to me, that intimate one did.
If I set hope upon the sultan, it was error;
and if I sought faith from the beloved, she dealt me cruelty.
Sweet be its lot, that breeze of the early morning
which brought the cure to the pain of those who sit through the night.
It drew back the veil of the rose, and the hyacinth-tress,
and loosed the knot upon the bud's fast-fastened robe.
On every side the enamoured nightingale cries out;
and in the midst the dawn breeze took its ease and delight.
Bear the glad tidings to the street of the wine-sellers:
that Hafez has repented of his hypocritical abstinence.
The masters of the city have shown me their faith —
Abu'l-Wafa, the crown of fortune and of faith, has done it.