Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 407
I saw the sphere's green sown-field, and the new moon's sickle;
and it recalled to me my own crop, and the reaping-time.
I said: 'O fortune, you have slept, and the sun has risen';
it said: 'For all that, despair not of the grace of old.'
If you go, pure and stripped bare, like the Messiah, to the sky,
a hundred rays will reach the sun from that lamp of yours.
Trust not the night-thief star — for this same trickster
bore off the crown of Kavus and the belt of Kaykhosrow.
Though the earring of gold and ruby weighs the ear down,
the season of beauty is passing — heed the counsel.
Far be the evil eye from your mole, that on beauty's board
drove a pawn to bear off the stake from the moon and sun.
Say to the sky: vaunt not this grandeur — for in love
the moon's harvest goes for a grain, the Pleiades' sheaf for two.
The fire of abstinence and cant will burn religion's harvest;
Hafez — cast off this woollen frock, and go.