Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 389
Like the rose, at every breath, in your fragrance, I rend the garment on my body,
tearing it clean from the collar all the way down to the hem.
The rose beheld your body — it is as though, there in the garden,
it rent the garment on its body, wild as the reeling drunk.
From the hand of your grief I scarce carry off my soul alive;
yet the heart you carried off from me lightly, and with ease.
At the word of the foes you turned your face away from the Friend;
no one, with a Friend so true, becomes at last an enemy.
Your body in its garment is like wine within the cup;
your heart within your breast is like iron sealed in silver.
Rain down, O candle, your tears from your blood-brimming eye,
for the burning of your heart is grown plain and bright to all the world.
Do it not — lest from my breast the liver-scorching sigh
rise up, like curling smoke, along the pathway of the casement.
Break not my heart, nor cast it down to be trodden underfoot,
for it keeps its very dwelling within the heart of your dark tress.
Since the heart lies bound within your tress, O Hafez, then
cast not, in such a fashion as this, its whole affair underfoot.