Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 358
The grief of the age, for which I see no shore at all —
I see no cure for it but wine as red as the Judas-flower.
I will not speak of forsaking the service of the Magian Elder,
for I see my own good counsel to lie in that alone.
From the sun of the goblet, take the altitude of your joy,
for I see the ascendant of the hour to be just so favourable.
The mark of the folk of God is love — hold it fast within,
for among the shaykhs of the town this mark I do not see.
A thousand pities, that with these two bewildered eyes of mine,
in a pair of mirrors I do not see her face laid bare!
Since your stature passed away from the streamlet of my eye,
in place of the cypress I see nothing but running water.
In this crop-sickness no one grants me a single draught;
behold — I see no man of heart in all the midst!
The trace of that slender waist to which I have bound my heart —
ask it not of me, for I see it not, myself, in the midst at all.
I and the collection of Hafez — for save upon this sea
I see no ware of pearl-scattering speech at all.