Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 474
I am your well-wisher, my soul, and I know that you know —
that you see the unseen and read the unwritten alike.
What can the blamer grasp of what passes between lover and beloved?
The sightless eye sees nothing, least of all the hidden mysteries.
Shake out your tress, and set the Sufi to whirling and to dance,
that from each patch of his cloak you scatter a thousand idols.
The undoing of the longing ones' knot is in that heart-binding brow;
for God's sake, sit a moment — untie the knot from your forehead.
In bowing down to Adam, the angel meant to kiss your ground,
for in your beauty it saw a grace beyond the human bound.
The kindler of our eye's lamp is the breeze of the Beloved's tress;
O Lord, let this company know no grief from the wind of dispersal.
Alas for the dawn-drinking joy that slipped by in daybreak's sleep;
you know not the moment's worth, O heart, save when you are helpless.
To weary of your fellow-travelers is not the way of the wise;
bear the stage's hardship in memory of the covenant of ease.
The fancy of her tress's ring beguiles you, Hafez;
take care you set not stirring the impossible ring of fortune.