FROM LEYLĪ AND MEJNŪN
Yield not the soul to pang of Love, for Love’s the soul’s fierce glow;
That Love’s the torment of the soul doth all the wide world know.
Seek not for gain from fancy wild of pang of Love at all;
For all that comes from fancy wild of Love’s pang is grief’s throe.
Each curving eyebrow is a blood-stained sabre thee to slay;
Each dusky curl, a deadly venomed snake to work thee woe.
Lovely, indeed, the forms of moon-like maidens are to see—
Lovely to see, but ah! the end doth bitter anguish show.
From this I know full well that torment dire in love abides,
That all who lovers are, engrossed with sighs, rove to and fro.
Call not to mind the pupils of the black-eyed damsels bright,
With thought, “I’m man”; be not deceived, ’tis blood they drink, I trow.
E’en if Fuzūlī should declare, “In fair ones there is troth,”
Be not deceived—“A poet’s words are falsehoods all men know.”
Fuzūlī.
MEJNŪN ADDRESSES NEVFIL
Quoth Mejnūn: “O sole friend of true plight!
With counsel many have tried me to guide right;
Many with wisdom gifted have advice shown,
But yet this fiend hath been by no one o’erthrown;
Much gold has on the earth been strewn round,
But yet this Stone of Alchemist by none’s found.
Collyrium I know that doth increase light,
What use though is it if the eye doth lack sight?
I know that greatest kindliness in thee lies,
What use, though, when my fate doth ever dark rise?
Upon my gloomy fortune I no faith lay,
Impossible my hope appeareth alway.
Ah! though in this thou shouldest ever hard toil,
The end at length will surely all thy plans foil.
No kindliness to me my closest friends show;
Who is a friend to him whom he doth deem foe?
I know my fortune evil is and woe-fraught;
The search for solace is to me, save pain, naught.
There is a gazel that doth well my lot show,
Which constant I repeat where’er my steps go.”
Fuzūlī.
MEJNŪN’S GAZEL
From whomsoever I’ve sought for troth but bitterest disdain I’ve seen;
Whome’er within this faithless world I’ve trusted, all most vain I’ve seen.
To whomsoe’er I’ve told my woes, in hope to find some balm therefor,
Than e’en myself o’erwhelmed and sunk in deeper, sadder pain I’ve seen.
From out mine aching heart no one hath driven cruel grief away,
That those my friends of pleasure’s hour affection did but feign I’ve seen.
Although I’ve clutched its mantle, life hath turned away its face from me;
And though I faith from mirror hoped, there persecuted swain I’ve seen.
At gate of hope I set my foot, bewilderment held forth its hand,
Alas! whene’er hope’s thread I’ve seized, in hand the serpent’s train I’ve seen.
A hundred times the Sphere hath shown to me my darksome fortune’s star;
Whene’er my horoscope I’ve cast, but blackest, deepest stain I’ve seen.
Fuzūlī, blush not then, should I from mankind turn my face away;
For why? From all to whom I’ve looked, but reason sad too plain I’ve seen.
Fuzūlī.