Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 423
Last night I went to the tavern door, heavy with sleep,
my frock wet-skirted, and my prayer-rug wine-stained.
The Magian boy, the wine-seller, came sighing and said:
'Awake, awake, O wayfarer weighed down with sleep!'
'Perform an ablution, and then stroll into the tavern,
that this ruined cloister be not defiled through you.'
'How long, in longing for boys' sweet lips, will you go on
staining the soul's own jewel with molten ruby wine?'
'Pass through old age's stage in purity, and stain not
the robe of white hairs, as you stained youth's robe of honour.'
'Grow pure and clear, and climb out of the well of nature,
for defiled water lends no clarity to the dust.'
I said: 'O soul of the world, the rose's album bears no fault,
if in the springtime it be stained with the purest wine.'
'The initiates of love's road, in this deep sea,
were drowned outright, yet were not stained by the water.'
He said: 'Hafez, deal not riddle and fine point to your friends —
alas, from this grace steeped in every kind of reproof!'