O sad heart, come, distraction's hour is now high,The air's cool, 'midst the elds to sit the time nigh.The Sun hath to the Balance, Joseph-like, past,The year's Zuleykha hath her gold hoard wide cast.By winds bronzed, like the Sun, the quince's face glows;Its Pleiads-clusters, hanging forth, the vine shows.In saffron flow'rets have the meads themselves dight;The trees, all scorched, to gold have turned, and shine bright.The gilded leaves in showers falling to earth gleam;With goldfish filled doth glisten brightly each stream.Ablaze each tree, and blent are all in one glare,And therefore charged with glistening fire the still air.Amidst the yellow foliage perched the black crows—As tulip, saffron-hued, that spotted cup shows.A yellow-plumaged bird now every tree stands,Which shakes itself and feathers sheds on all hands.Each vine-leaf paints its face, bride-like, with gold ink;The brook doth silver anklets round the vine link.The plane-tree hath its hands, with henna, red-dyed,And stands there of the parterre's court the fair bride.The erst green tree now like the starry sky shows,And hurling meteors at the fiend, Earth, stones throws.
O sad heart, come, distraction's hour is now high,The air's cool, 'midst the elds to sit the time nigh.The Sun hath to the Balance, Joseph-like, past,The year's Zuleykha hath her gold hoard wide cast.By winds bronzed, like the Sun, the quince's face glows;Its Pleiads-clusters, hanging forth, the vine shows.In saffron flow'rets have the meads themselves dight;The trees, all scorched, to gold have turned, and shine bright.The gilded leaves in showers falling to earth gleam;With goldfish filled doth glisten brightly each stream.Ablaze each tree, and blent are all in one glare,And therefore charged with glistening fire the still air.Amidst the yellow foliage perched the black crows—As tulip, saffron-hued, that spotted cup shows.A yellow-plumaged bird now every tree stands,Which shakes itself and feathers sheds on all hands.Each vine-leaf paints its face, bride-like, with gold ink;The brook doth silver anklets round the vine link.The plane-tree hath its hands, with henna, red-dyed,And stands there of the parterre's court the fair bride.The erst green tree now like the starry sky shows,And hurling meteors at the fiend, Earth, stones throws.
O sad heart, come, distraction's hour is now high,The air's cool, 'midst the elds to sit the time nigh.The Sun hath to the Balance, Joseph-like, past,The year's Zuleykha hath her gold hoard wide cast.By winds bronzed, like the Sun, the quince's face glows;Its Pleiads-clusters, hanging forth, the vine shows.In saffron flow'rets have the meads themselves dight;The trees, all scorched, to gold have turned, and shine bright.The gilded leaves in showers falling to earth gleam;With goldfish filled doth glisten brightly each stream.Ablaze each tree, and blent are all in one glare,And therefore charged with glistening fire the still air.Amidst the yellow foliage perched the black crows—As tulip, saffron-hued, that spotted cup shows.A yellow-plumaged bird now every tree stands,Which shakes itself and feathers sheds on all hands.Each vine-leaf paints its face, bride-like, with gold ink;The brook doth silver anklets round the vine link.The plane-tree hath its hands, with henna, red-dyed,And stands there of the parterre's court the fair bride.The erst green tree now like the starry sky shows,And hurling meteors at the fiend, Earth, stones throws.
O sad heart, come, distraction's hour is now high,
The air's cool, 'midst the elds to sit the time nigh.
The Sun hath to the Balance, Joseph-like, past,
The year's Zuleykha hath her gold hoard wide cast.
By winds bronzed, like the Sun, the quince's face glows;
Its Pleiads-clusters, hanging forth, the vine shows.
In saffron flow'rets have the meads themselves dight;
The trees, all scorched, to gold have turned, and shine bright.
The gilded leaves in showers falling to earth gleam;
With goldfish filled doth glisten brightly each stream.
Ablaze each tree, and blent are all in one glare,
And therefore charged with glistening fire the still air.
Amidst the yellow foliage perched the black crows—
As tulip, saffron-hued, that spotted cup shows.
A yellow-plumaged bird now every tree stands,
Which shakes itself and feathers sheds on all hands.
Each vine-leaf paints its face, bride-like, with gold ink;
The brook doth silver anklets round the vine link.
The plane-tree hath its hands, with henna, red-dyed,
And stands there of the parterre's court the fair bride.
The erst green tree now like the starry sky shows,
And hurling meteors at the fiend, Earth, stones throws.
From the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour,In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power.Pent its collar, like the dawning, hath the rose;From its heart the nightingale sighs forth its woes.Dance the juniper and cypress like the sphere;Filled with melody through joy all lands appear.Gently sing the running brooks in murmurs soft;While the birds with tuneful voices soar aloft.Play the green and tender branches with delight,And they shed with one accord gold, silver, bright.Like to couriers fleet, the zephyrs speed away,Resting ne'er a moment either night or day.In that raid the rosebud filled with gold its hoard,And the tulip with fresh musk its casket stored.There the moon a purse of silver coin did seize;Filled with ambergris its skirt the morning breeze;Won the sun a golden disk of ruby dye,And with glistening pearls its pocket filled the sky:Those who poor were fruit and foliage attained;All the people of the land some trophy gained.
From the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour,In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power.Pent its collar, like the dawning, hath the rose;From its heart the nightingale sighs forth its woes.Dance the juniper and cypress like the sphere;Filled with melody through joy all lands appear.Gently sing the running brooks in murmurs soft;While the birds with tuneful voices soar aloft.Play the green and tender branches with delight,And they shed with one accord gold, silver, bright.Like to couriers fleet, the zephyrs speed away,Resting ne'er a moment either night or day.In that raid the rosebud filled with gold its hoard,And the tulip with fresh musk its casket stored.There the moon a purse of silver coin did seize;Filled with ambergris its skirt the morning breeze;Won the sun a golden disk of ruby dye,And with glistening pearls its pocket filled the sky:Those who poor were fruit and foliage attained;All the people of the land some trophy gained.
From the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour,In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power.Pent its collar, like the dawning, hath the rose;From its heart the nightingale sighs forth its woes.Dance the juniper and cypress like the sphere;Filled with melody through joy all lands appear.Gently sing the running brooks in murmurs soft;While the birds with tuneful voices soar aloft.Play the green and tender branches with delight,And they shed with one accord gold, silver, bright.Like to couriers fleet, the zephyrs speed away,Resting ne'er a moment either night or day.In that raid the rosebud filled with gold its hoard,And the tulip with fresh musk its casket stored.There the moon a purse of silver coin did seize;Filled with ambergris its skirt the morning breeze;Won the sun a golden disk of ruby dye,And with glistening pearls its pocket filled the sky:Those who poor were fruit and foliage attained;All the people of the land some trophy gained.
From the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour,
In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power.
Pent its collar, like the dawning, hath the rose;
From its heart the nightingale sighs forth its woes.
Dance the juniper and cypress like the sphere;
Filled with melody through joy all lands appear.
Gently sing the running brooks in murmurs soft;
While the birds with tuneful voices soar aloft.
Play the green and tender branches with delight,
And they shed with one accord gold, silver, bright.
Like to couriers fleet, the zephyrs speed away,
Resting ne'er a moment either night or day.
In that raid the rosebud filled with gold its hoard,
And the tulip with fresh musk its casket stored.
There the moon a purse of silver coin did seize;
Filled with ambergris its skirt the morning breeze;
Won the sun a golden disk of ruby dye,
And with glistening pearls its pocket filled the sky:
Those who poor were fruit and foliage attained;
All the people of the land some trophy gained.
O heart, come, wail, as nightingale thy woes show;'Tis Pleasure's moment this, come, then, as rose blow.In burning notes make thou thy tuneful song rise;These iron hearts soft render with thy sad sighs.Within thy soul place not, like tulip, dark brand;When opportunity doth come, then firm stand.From earth take justice ere yet are these times left,And ere yet from the soul's harp is breath's song reft.They call thee—view the joys that sense would yield thee;But, ere thou canst say "Hie!" the bird is flown, see.Give ear, rose-like, because in truth the night-birdFrom break of dawn its bitter wail hath made heard.Their chorus all around the gleeful birds raise;The streamlets sing, the nightingale the flute plays.The jasmines with their fresh leaves tambourines ply;The streams, hard pressed, raise up their glistening foam highOf junipers and cypresses two ranks 'tween,The zephyr sports and dances o'er the flower-green.The streamlets 'midst the vineyard hide-and-seek playThe flowerlets with, among the verdant leaves gay.Away the morning's breeze the jasmine's crown tears,As pearls most costly scatters it the plucked hairs.The leader of the play's the breeze of swift pace;Like children, each the other all the flowers chase.With green leaves dressed, the trees each other's hands take;The flowers and nightingales each other's robes shake.Like pigeon, there, before the gale that soft blows,Doth turn in many a somersault the young rose.As blaze up with gay flowerlets all the red plains,The wind each passes, and the vineyard next gains.The clouds, pearl-raining, from the meteors sparks seize;And flowers are all around strewn by the dawn-breeze.The waters, eddying, in circles bright play,Like shining swords the green leaves toss about they.With bated breath the Judas-trees there stand by;And each for other running brook and breeze sigh.The gales tag with the basil play in high glee;To dance with cypress gives its hand the plane-tree.The soft winds have adorned the wanton bough fair,The leader of the frolics 'midst the parterre.The narcisse toward the almond-tree its glance throws;With vineyard-love the pink upbraids the dog-rose.The water's mirror clear doth as the Sphere gleam;Its stars, the flowers, reflected, fair and bright beam.The meads are skies; their stars, the drops of dew, glow;The jasmine is the moon; the stream, the halo.In short, each spot as resurrection-plane seems;None who beholds of everlasting pain dreams.Those who it view, and ponder well with thought's eye,It's strange, if they be mazed and wildered thereby?Up! breeze-like, Lami'i, thy hermitage leave!The roses' days in sooth no time for fasts give!
O heart, come, wail, as nightingale thy woes show;'Tis Pleasure's moment this, come, then, as rose blow.In burning notes make thou thy tuneful song rise;These iron hearts soft render with thy sad sighs.Within thy soul place not, like tulip, dark brand;When opportunity doth come, then firm stand.From earth take justice ere yet are these times left,And ere yet from the soul's harp is breath's song reft.They call thee—view the joys that sense would yield thee;But, ere thou canst say "Hie!" the bird is flown, see.Give ear, rose-like, because in truth the night-birdFrom break of dawn its bitter wail hath made heard.Their chorus all around the gleeful birds raise;The streamlets sing, the nightingale the flute plays.The jasmines with their fresh leaves tambourines ply;The streams, hard pressed, raise up their glistening foam highOf junipers and cypresses two ranks 'tween,The zephyr sports and dances o'er the flower-green.The streamlets 'midst the vineyard hide-and-seek playThe flowerlets with, among the verdant leaves gay.Away the morning's breeze the jasmine's crown tears,As pearls most costly scatters it the plucked hairs.The leader of the play's the breeze of swift pace;Like children, each the other all the flowers chase.With green leaves dressed, the trees each other's hands take;The flowers and nightingales each other's robes shake.Like pigeon, there, before the gale that soft blows,Doth turn in many a somersault the young rose.As blaze up with gay flowerlets all the red plains,The wind each passes, and the vineyard next gains.The clouds, pearl-raining, from the meteors sparks seize;And flowers are all around strewn by the dawn-breeze.The waters, eddying, in circles bright play,Like shining swords the green leaves toss about they.With bated breath the Judas-trees there stand by;And each for other running brook and breeze sigh.The gales tag with the basil play in high glee;To dance with cypress gives its hand the plane-tree.The soft winds have adorned the wanton bough fair,The leader of the frolics 'midst the parterre.The narcisse toward the almond-tree its glance throws;With vineyard-love the pink upbraids the dog-rose.The water's mirror clear doth as the Sphere gleam;Its stars, the flowers, reflected, fair and bright beam.The meads are skies; their stars, the drops of dew, glow;The jasmine is the moon; the stream, the halo.In short, each spot as resurrection-plane seems;None who beholds of everlasting pain dreams.Those who it view, and ponder well with thought's eye,It's strange, if they be mazed and wildered thereby?Up! breeze-like, Lami'i, thy hermitage leave!The roses' days in sooth no time for fasts give!
O heart, come, wail, as nightingale thy woes show;'Tis Pleasure's moment this, come, then, as rose blow.In burning notes make thou thy tuneful song rise;These iron hearts soft render with thy sad sighs.Within thy soul place not, like tulip, dark brand;When opportunity doth come, then firm stand.From earth take justice ere yet are these times left,And ere yet from the soul's harp is breath's song reft.They call thee—view the joys that sense would yield thee;But, ere thou canst say "Hie!" the bird is flown, see.Give ear, rose-like, because in truth the night-birdFrom break of dawn its bitter wail hath made heard.Their chorus all around the gleeful birds raise;The streamlets sing, the nightingale the flute plays.The jasmines with their fresh leaves tambourines ply;The streams, hard pressed, raise up their glistening foam highOf junipers and cypresses two ranks 'tween,The zephyr sports and dances o'er the flower-green.The streamlets 'midst the vineyard hide-and-seek playThe flowerlets with, among the verdant leaves gay.Away the morning's breeze the jasmine's crown tears,As pearls most costly scatters it the plucked hairs.The leader of the play's the breeze of swift pace;Like children, each the other all the flowers chase.With green leaves dressed, the trees each other's hands take;The flowers and nightingales each other's robes shake.Like pigeon, there, before the gale that soft blows,Doth turn in many a somersault the young rose.As blaze up with gay flowerlets all the red plains,The wind each passes, and the vineyard next gains.The clouds, pearl-raining, from the meteors sparks seize;And flowers are all around strewn by the dawn-breeze.The waters, eddying, in circles bright play,Like shining swords the green leaves toss about they.With bated breath the Judas-trees there stand by;And each for other running brook and breeze sigh.The gales tag with the basil play in high glee;To dance with cypress gives its hand the plane-tree.The soft winds have adorned the wanton bough fair,The leader of the frolics 'midst the parterre.The narcisse toward the almond-tree its glance throws;With vineyard-love the pink upbraids the dog-rose.The water's mirror clear doth as the Sphere gleam;Its stars, the flowers, reflected, fair and bright beam.The meads are skies; their stars, the drops of dew, glow;The jasmine is the moon; the stream, the halo.In short, each spot as resurrection-plane seems;None who beholds of everlasting pain dreams.Those who it view, and ponder well with thought's eye,It's strange, if they be mazed and wildered thereby?Up! breeze-like, Lami'i, thy hermitage leave!The roses' days in sooth no time for fasts give!
O heart, come, wail, as nightingale thy woes show;
'Tis Pleasure's moment this, come, then, as rose blow.
In burning notes make thou thy tuneful song rise;
These iron hearts soft render with thy sad sighs.
Within thy soul place not, like tulip, dark brand;
When opportunity doth come, then firm stand.
From earth take justice ere yet are these times left,
And ere yet from the soul's harp is breath's song reft.
They call thee—view the joys that sense would yield thee;
But, ere thou canst say "Hie!" the bird is flown, see.
Give ear, rose-like, because in truth the night-bird
From break of dawn its bitter wail hath made heard.
Their chorus all around the gleeful birds raise;
The streamlets sing, the nightingale the flute plays.
The jasmines with their fresh leaves tambourines ply;
The streams, hard pressed, raise up their glistening foam high
Of junipers and cypresses two ranks 'tween,
The zephyr sports and dances o'er the flower-green.
The streamlets 'midst the vineyard hide-and-seek play
The flowerlets with, among the verdant leaves gay.
Away the morning's breeze the jasmine's crown tears,
As pearls most costly scatters it the plucked hairs.
The leader of the play's the breeze of swift pace;
Like children, each the other all the flowers chase.
With green leaves dressed, the trees each other's hands take;
The flowers and nightingales each other's robes shake.
Like pigeon, there, before the gale that soft blows,
Doth turn in many a somersault the young rose.
As blaze up with gay flowerlets all the red plains,
The wind each passes, and the vineyard next gains.
The clouds, pearl-raining, from the meteors sparks seize;
And flowers are all around strewn by the dawn-breeze.
The waters, eddying, in circles bright play,
Like shining swords the green leaves toss about they.
With bated breath the Judas-trees there stand by;
And each for other running brook and breeze sigh.
The gales tag with the basil play in high glee;
To dance with cypress gives its hand the plane-tree.
The soft winds have adorned the wanton bough fair,
The leader of the frolics 'midst the parterre.
The narcisse toward the almond-tree its glance throws;
With vineyard-love the pink upbraids the dog-rose.
The water's mirror clear doth as the Sphere gleam;
Its stars, the flowers, reflected, fair and bright beam.
The meads are skies; their stars, the drops of dew, glow;
The jasmine is the moon; the stream, the halo.
In short, each spot as resurrection-plane seems;
None who beholds of everlasting pain dreams.
Those who it view, and ponder well with thought's eye,
It's strange, if they be mazed and wildered thereby?
Up! breeze-like, Lami'i, thy hermitage leave!
The roses' days in sooth no time for fasts give!