With longing fond and vain, why should I make my soul to mourn?
One trace of love of earth holds not my heart—all is forsworn.
There ready stands the caravan, to Death’s dim realms addrest,
E’en now the tinkling of its bells down on my ears is borne.
Come then, O bird, my soul, be still, disquiet leave far off;
See, how this cage, the body, is with years and suffering worn.
But yet, to weary, wasted, sin-stained Shāhī, what of fear?
Since Thou’rt the God of Love, the helping Friend of those forlorn!
Shāhī.
GAZEL
O breeze, thou’rt kind, of balm to those whom pangs affright, thou news hast brought,
To wounded frame of life, to life of life’s delight thou news hast brought.
Thou’st seen the mourning nightingale’s despair in sorrow’s autumn drear,
Like springtide days, of smiling roseleaf fresh and bright, thou news hast brought.
If I should say thy words are heaven-inspired, in truth, blaspheme I not;
Of Faith, whilst unbelief doth earth hold fast and tight, thou news hast brought.
They say the loved one comes to soothe the hearts of all her lovers true;
If that the case, to yon fair maid of lovers’ plight thou news hast brought.
Of rebel demon thou hast cut the hope Suleymān’s throne to gain;
That in the sea secure doth lie his Ring of might, thou news hast brought.
Fuzūlī, through the parting night, alas, how dark my fortune grew!
Like zephyr of the dawn, of shining sun’s fair light thou
news hast brought.
GAZEL
O thou Perfect Being, Source whence wisdom’s mysteries arise;
Things, the issue of thine essence, show wherein thy nature lies.
Manifester of all wisdom, thou art he whose pen of might
Hath with rays of stars illumined yonder gleaming page, the skies.
That a happy star, indeed, the essence clear of whose bright self
Truly knoweth how the blessings from thy word that flow to prize.
But a jewel flawed am faulty I: alas, forever stands
Blank the page of my heart’s journal from thought of thy writing wise.
In the journal of my actions Evil’s lines are black indeed;
When I think of Day of Gathering’s terrors, blood flows from my eyes.
Gathering of my tears will form a torrent on the Reckoning Day,
If the pearls, my tears, rejecting, he but view them to despise:
Pearls my tears are, O Fuzūlī, from the ocean deep of love;
But they’re pearls these, oh! most surely, that the Love of Allah buys!
Fuzūlī.
GAZEL
Is’t strange if beauties’ hearts turn blood through envy of thy cheek most fair?
For that which stone to ruby turns is but the radiant sunlight’s glare.
Or strange is’t if thine eyelash conquer all the stony-hearted ones?
For meet an ebon shaft like that a barb of adamant should bear!
Thy cheek’s sun-love hath on the hard, hard hearts of fairy beauties fall’n,
And many a steely-eyed one hath received thy bright reflection fair.
The casket, thy sweet mouth, doth hold spell-bound the hūrī-faced ones all;
The virtue of Suleymān’s Ring was that fays thereto fealty sware.
Is’t strange if, seeing thee, they rub their faces lowly midst the dust?
That down to Adam bowed the angel throng doth the Qur’ān declare!
On many and many a heart of stone have fall’n the pangs of love for thee!
A fire that lies in stone concealed is thy heart-burning love’s dread glare!
Within her ward, with garments rent, on all sides rosy-cheeked ones stray;
Fuzūlī, through those radiant hues, that quarter beams a garden fair.