| Thou, by whose bright face bloometh The tulip-bed of life |
|
|
| May none, like me, be shattered of the woes of separation |
|
|
| For weeping, all immersed in blood The apple of mine eye is |
|
|
| The Rose, sans the check of the Friend, is not goodly |
|
|
| Yet once more the East wind's breathings Musk-scattering will go |
|
|
| Admonition I make thee: Give ear nor except thereto, An |
|
|
| Thou, whose cheek is like the gardens of the skies |
|
|
| The Sea of Love a sea is, Whereunto shore is not |
|
|
| O monarch, a ball in the crook of thy mall The firmament round for thee be! |
|
|
| Whoso the tale of thy scent, By th' East wind up-brought, heareth |
|
|