Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 189
If the bird of fortune should but make its homeward flight once more,
the beloved will return, and with union will settle down to rest.
Though the eye keep no more store of pearl and precious gem within,
it will drink down a draught of blood, and contrive some scattering-gift.
Last night I said her ruby lip would surely remedy my ill;
the voice from the unseen cried out: 'Yes, indeed it will.'
No one dares breathe a word to her of the tale of what we bear,
unless the dawn wind whisper it, low, into her listening ear.
Once more I have given my gaze to a pheasant, set for flight;
perhaps it will call the gaze back and make of it a quarry.
The city is empty of true lovers — it may be, from some side,
a man will come forth out of himself and do some worthy deed.
Where is there one so generous, that from his feast of joy,
some grief-struck soul might drain a draught and drive the hangover off?
Either faith, or the news of your union, or the death of the rival —
will the wheel of heaven, perhaps, perform one of these two or three?
Hafez, if you will not go from her door, then one day yet
she too will make her passage above your head, from some far corner.