Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 193
At our fond gazing on the fair, the unknowing stand bewildered still;
I am but what I have laid bare—the rest, then, let them come to know.
The wise are but the compass-point at the still centre of all being, yet
love knows full well that in this ring it is they who circle, lost and dazed.
The mirror-hall where shines her face is not my single eye alone;
the moon and sun as well revolve this selfsame glass to catch her glow.
God sealed our covenant of old with those whose lips are honey-sweet;
we are all slaves of that decree, and this fair folk are lords and kings.
Bankrupt we are, yet burn with love of wine and of the minstrel's air—
ah, would that they not seize in pledge this woollen cloak upon my back!
Union with the sun ne'er reaches up to the blind and blinking bat,
for in that glass the men of sight themselves are lost in wonderment.
To boast of love yet blame the friend—O bravo, boast that lies outright!
Such players in the game of love earn nothing but their long divorce.
Perhaps your black eye yet may teach my heart the secret of the craft,
for chastity and drunken love not every soul can hold as one.
Should the wind but carry your sweet scent to where the spirits take their ease,
reason and soul would fling away the jewel of being as a gift.
If the ascetic grasps not Hafez' rakish way—why, what of that?
The demon flees in headlong dread from that folk who intone the Book.
If the Magian boys should come to learn the burden of this thought of ours,
no more will they take Sufi's cloak in pledge across the tavern board.