Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 432
Drunk from the cup of love — O cupbearer, bring wine;
fill high the bowl, for wineless the feast has no light.
Her moon-bright cheek behind the veil defies all telling;
minstrel, strike up a strain — cupbearer, bring wine.
My stature bent to a ring, that henceforth your rival
drive us from this door on no pretext at all.
Awaiting your face are we, and all our hoping;
in your union's coquetry are we — fancy and dream.
Drunk on those two eyes — ah, where is a goblet now?
Sick for those two rubies — is that less than an answer?
Hafez, why fix your heart on the fair ones' image?
When was the thirsty slaked by a mirage's gleam?