Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 257
Show me your face, and bid me: 'Lift your heart from life';
tell the moth before the flame: 'Take fire with all your soul.'
Behold our thirsting lip, and grudge us not the water;
come to the head of him you slew, and raise him from his dust.
Forsake not the dervish though he owns no silver, no gold;
in your grief count his tears as silver, his cheek as gold.
Strike up the harp; if there's no lute, why fear? Make do:
take my love for fire, my heart for aloes-wood, my flesh for the censer.
Enter the sama', cast the cloak from your head, and dance;
or else keep to a corner, and draw our cloak over your head.
Draw the wool from your head and quaff the limpid wine;
gamble the silver, and with gold clasp a silver body to your breast.
Say to the Friend: be my ally, and foe of both the worlds;
say to fortune: turn not away—go, seize the face of the earth.
Incline not to depart, O Friend—stay a breath with us;
by the brook's lip seek delight, and cradle the goblet in your palm.
Suppose me gone from your side—then mark the fire and flood of heart and eye:
reckon my colour sallow, my lip parched, my bosom wet with tears.
Hafez, adorn the feast, and say to the preacher this:
'Behold my gathering, and quit the summit of the pulpit.'