Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 25
The red rose has bloomed, and drunk is the nightingale;
a summons to gladness, O wine-worshiping Sufis!
The base of repentance, which seemed as firm as stone —
see how strangely a cup of glass has shattered it.
Bring the wine — for in the court of self-sufficiency
what is a watchman, what a sultan, what the sober, what the drunk?
Since from this two-doored caravanserai departure is decreed,
what matter if the arch and vault of your living be high or low?
The station of joy is not gained without pain;
yes — by affliction's decree they sealed the covenant of 'Am I not?'
Vex not your mind with being and non-being; be glad,
for non-being is the end of every perfection that is.
The pomp of Asaf, the wind-borne steed, the speech of birds —
all went to the wind, and their lord gained nothing from them.
Stray not from the road on wing and feather; the far-shot arrow
took to the air a while, but settled at last in the dust.
What thanks can the tongue of your pen render, Hafez,
that they bear your words from hand to hand?