And life prolong to Khizer’s age.
And oh the gale that wings its way
Twixt Jaffrabad and Mosalay;
How sweet a perfume does it bear!
How grateful is its amber air!
Ye who mysterious joys would taste,
Come to this sacred city—haste;
Its saints, its sages seek to know,
Whose breasts with heavenly rapture glow.
And say, sweet gale—for thou canst tell—