Then to the Sphere I never uttered prayer;
Feast, music, and delight—all mine—were there;
Moved ever by my side my Cypress fair;
Unopened then my secret and despair.
The envy of the springtide bright was I.
Now before grief and woe I’m fallen prone;
Like nightingale in early spring, I moan.
Through fire I’ve past and to the shore have flown,
And, like the shattered glass, to earth am thrown.
Sipping the wine, the fair’s despite, was I.
Ah me! alas! those happy hours are past;
The spring is past; the rose, the flowers, are past;
The smiles of her who graced the bowers are past;
The thirsty soul remains, the showers are past.
Drinking with her the wine so bright was I.
I with my loved one feast and banquet made,
Wild as the whirlpool then I romped and played;
At wine-feasts I myself in light arrayed,
And with my songs the nightingales dismayed.
Like Gālib, blest with all delight was I.
Gālib.
GAZEL
The mem’ry of his glance hid in my breast deep laid I found;
It seemed as though a fawn within the lion’s glade I found.
O heart! a parallel unto those eyebrows and that glance,
In Rustem’s deadly bow and Qahramān’s bright blade I found.
When, through my grieving at thine absence, dead of woe was I,
That mem’ry of thy rubies’ kiss new life conveyed I found.
My heart’s wound, through the beauty of the spring of love for thee,
By turns, rose, tulip, Judas-tree of crimson shade, I found.
Is’t strange, O Fitnet, if my soul around do scatter gems?
Within the ink-horn’s vault a hidden treasure laid I found.
Fitnet Khānim.
MUSEDDES
The fresh spring clouds across all earth their glistening pearls profuse now sow;
The flowers, too, all appearing, forth the radiance of their beauty show.
Of mirth and joy ’tis now the time, the hour to wander to and fro;
The palm-tree o’er the fair ones’ picnic gay its grateful shade doth throw.
O Liege, come forth! from end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow;
’Tis springtide now again, once more the tulips and the roses blow.