Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 451
Well did the sphere befriend you on the day of reckoning;
see now how you give thanks, what thank-offering you bring.
Whoever fell, God took his hand and raised him;
so it behoves you to share the grief of the fallen.
In love's own street they buy not the pomp of kingship;
confess your servitude, and show your attendance plain.
Cupbearer, come to my door with the glad news of joy,
that a moment you may bear the world's grief from my heart.
On the highway of rank and greatness the peril is great;
best that you cross this steep pass lightly-laden.
The sultan — with his thought of armies, his lust for crown and hoard;
the dervish — with his peace of mind and the qalandar's nook.
I'll speak one word in the Sufi vein — is it allowed? —
O light of the eye, peace is better than strife and judging.
The winning of desire runs by thought and by aspiration;
from the king a vow of good, and from heaven's grace, the aid.
Hafez, wash not from your face the dust of want and content,
for this dust is worth more than the alchemist's whole craft.