Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 213
The jewel of the treasure-house of secrets is the same it was of old;
the casket of love bears yet the selfsame seal and token that it bore.
Lovers are the very troop of those who keep the sacred trust unstained;
and so the pearl-showering eye is still the same it ever was before.
Ask of the breeze—for us the whole night long, until the breath of dawn,
the fragrance of your tress remains the selfsame soul-mate that it was.
I am no seeker of the ruby or the pearl—else still the sun
is at its ancient labour yet, the selfsame mine and vein it was.
Come, visit now the slain one felled by your own glance, and raise him up,
for the poor helpless heart still trembles, anxious, as it was before.
The crimson colour of my heart's own blood, which you would keep concealed,
is yet as manifest as ever upon your ruby-coloured lip.
I said your Hindu tress at last would ambush and waylay no more;
the years have passed—and still it keeps the selfsame nature that it was.
Hafez, once more recite the tale of the bloody weeping of the eye,
for over this same spring there flows the selfsame water that there was.