Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 344
A lifetime it has been, that day by day I take a step in the quest,
and every hour I stretch the hand of intercession toward good name.
Lacking my own love-kindling moon, to pass away my day,
I set a snare on some road, and strike at a bird with that snare.
Where is the throne, where the rose-cheeked one, where the mark of faith and love?
Meanwhile, in this loving, I cast my whole and final stake.
That I might get some tidings of the shade of the slender cypress,
I raise from every quarter the rose-cry of love at that graceful walker.
Though I know that soother of the heart bestows no heart's desire,
I paint an image of fancy, and read the fortune of endurance.
I know that at last it will bring the grief to a close, and colour the tale,
this blood-scattering sigh that I heave at every dawn and dusk.
Though I am absent from Her, and, like Hafez, repentant of wine,
in the assembly of the spirits now and then I take up a cup.