Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 415
O courier of the truthful, tell the tidings of our Friend;
tell to the story-singing nightingale the state of the rose.
We are the confidants of intimacy's own privacy — grieve not;
speak intimate words with the intimate Friend.
As she tossed apart that pair of musk-raining tresses,
what intent had she toward us? For God's sake, tell.
Whoever said the dust of the Friend's door is healing collyrium —
tell him: say that word plainly, straight into our eye.
That one who forbids us the tavern — say to him:
utter this whole affair in the presence of my Elder.
If once more you should pass by that door of fortune,
then, after doing service and offering prayer, tell —
Though we were bad, do not hold us to account for it;
royally, tell the tale of the beggar's sin.
Read to this dervish the letter of that great lord;
to this beggar tell the story of that king.
As she scattered souls upon the dust from her tress's snare,
what befell that stranger of ours? O breeze, tell.
Soul-nurturing is the tale of the masters of gnosis;
go, ask a hint of it — and come, tell a saying of it.
Hafez — if they grant you the road into her assembly,
drink wine, and forsake hypocrisy — for God's sake, so say.