From the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour,
In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power.
Rent 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.
Lāmi’ī.
ROSE TIME
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 flowerets 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 flowerets 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,
Is’t strange, if they be mazed and wildered thereby?
Up! breeze-like, Lāmi’ī, thy hermitage leave!
The roses’ days in sooth no time for fasts give
Lāmi’ī.
FROM AN ELEGY ON SULTAN SELĪM I
He, an old man in prudence, a youth in might;
His sword aye triumphant, his word ever right
Like Āsef in wisdom, the pride of his host;
He needed no vezīr, no mushīr in fight.
His hand was a sabre; a dagger, his tongue;
His finger, an arrow; his arm, a spear bright.
In shortest of time many high deeds he wrought,
Encircle the world did the shade of his might.
The Sun of his Day, but the sun at day’s close,
Throwing long shadow, but brief while in sight.
Of throne and of diadem sovereigns boast,
But boasted of him throne and diadem bright.
Delight would his heart in that festival find,
Whither doth sabre’s and fife’s clang invite.
In feats with the sword, eke at feasts at the board,
On his peer ne’er alight did the aged Sphere’s sight:
Sped he to the board’s feast—a Sun beaming bright!
Swept he to the sword’s field—a Lion of fight!
Whenever the war-cries: Seize! Hold! echo far,
The sword, weeping blood, shall that Lion’s fame cite.
Alas! Sultan Selīm! alas! woe is me!
Let both Pen and Sabre in tears mourn for thee!
Kemāl Pasha-Zāda.
FROM AN ELEGY ON ISKENDER CHELEBI
High honored once was the noble Iskender;
O heart, from his destiny warning obtain.
Ah! do thou see what at length hath befall’n him!
What all this glory and panoply gain!
Drinking the poison of doom, ne’er a remnant
Of sweetness’s taste in his mouth did remain.
Retrograde, sank down his star, erst ascendant,
From perfect conjunction, alas, did it wane.
Dust on the face of his honor aye stainless
Strewn hath the blast of betrayal profane.
The Lofty Decree for his high exaltation
Did Equity’s Court, all unlocked for, ordain;
Forthwith to the Regions of Eden they bore him,
They raised him from earth’s abject baseness and stain.
Circling and soaring, he went on his journey,
From the land of his exile to Home back again.
Neck-bounden he stood as a slave at the palace,
Freed is he now from affliction’s hard chain.
Joyous he flew on his journey to Heaven,
Rescued forever from earth gross and vain.
In life or in death from him never, ay, never
Was honor most lofty, most glorious, ta’en!