Un presagio da Hafez
Ghazal 92
My prince, how gracefully you move — I die of you, from head to foot;
go, swaying sweetly on your way, for before your comely form I die.
You had once said: 'When will you die before me? What means this haste?'
So sweetly you demand it — before your very demand I die.
A lover, wine-sick and forsaken am I — where is the cupbearer-idol?
Say, let her come and sway, for before that towering cypress I die.
She, for whom a lifetime now I have lain sick with longing —
say, let her cast one glance, for before that dark, languid eye I die.
You have said: 'My ruby lip bestows both the ailment and its cure';
now before the ailment, now before the healing, I die.
Sweetly swaying you go your way — may the evil eye keep far from you;
I carry within my head the fancy that at your feet I die.
Though for Hafez there is no place in the private chamber of your union,
O you, delightful in every place — before every place I die.