Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 67
O Lord, from whose bower is this heart-kindling candle?
Our soul is burned — ask whose beloved she is.
Even now she is the ruiner of my heart and faith;
in whose embrace does she sleep, and whose housemate is she?
The ruby wine of her lip — far be it never from my lip —
whose soul's-wine is it, and to whose cup gives she the pledge?
The fortune of the converse of that bliss-raying candle —
ask, for God's sake, to whose moth it belongs.
Everyone casts her a spell, and it is not made known
to whose tale her delicate heart is inclined.
O Lord, that king-like one, moon of face, Venus of brow —
of whose peerless pearl, of whose single gem, is she?
I said: 'Ah, from the mad heart of Hafez, bereft of you';
smiling beneath her lip she said: 'Who is the madman?'