Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 29
With the thought of you, what care have we for wine?
Tell the jar to mind itself — the wine-house lies in ruin.
Even were it the wine of Paradise, pour it away; for without the Friend
every sweet draught you give me is torment itself.
Alas, the heart-ravisher is gone, and in the weeping eye
the tracing of her down's image is a picture upon water.
Awake, O eye — one cannot rest secure
from this ceaseless torrent, while in this lodging there is sleep.
The beloved passes openly before you, yet —
because the strangers behold her too — she keeps her veil bound.
Since the rose beheld the grace of dew on your bright cheek,
in the fire of longing, from heart's grief, it drowns in rosewater.
Green are field and door — come, let us not lift our hand
from a little water, for the world is all mirage.
Seek no room for counsel in the corner of my brain,
for this nook is full of the murmur of harp and rebec.
What of it, if Hafez is a lover, a rend, and a gazer?
Many a strange state belongs to the days of youth.