| Skinker, youth's capital here come bring |
|
|
| If it be granted me of Fate With yonder charmer to foregather |
|
|
| To the new blown rose the bulbul Spake this word at break of day |
|
|
| To me the East wind yesternight The tidings rare hath brought |
|
|
| Friendship in no one I see: To friends of old date what hath happened? |
|
|
| Cypress of lofty stature, goodly of gait |
|
|
| Cupbearer, come! Lo, of desire for thy service I die |
|
|
| Ballad of Ladies' Love, Number Two |
|
|
| In the bigot seeming-holy Knowledge of our state is not |
|
|
| To the courtiers of the Sultan Who will bear this prayer for me? |
|
|