Classic Poem

On a Gazel of B a q i

Tis yonder Darling of my soul that wildering my sense o'erthrows;
My waving Cypress 'tis that freshness to the garden doth disclose;
The bird, my heart, my gardener is in Love's fair parterre of the rose:
Mine eyes' field with thy cheek's reflection as my flowery orchard shows;
For long my heart the picture of thy palm-like figure doth inclose.

The world seems in my eyes as prison that doth my dear love control;
Through love for thee my heart acquireth many a scar, and that's the whole;
From hour to hour thine absence makes my tears like rushing waters roll:
The heart bows down through grief for thee, and constant weeps the life, the soul;
The fountain of this vineyard is the stream that from my weeping flows.

As well thou know'st, through fire of love for thee how sad my plight of woe,
My smiling Rosebud, wilt thou ne'er a glance of pity toward me throw?
My sighs and wailings thou dost see, O but for once compassion show;
Through gazing on the rose and bower, my heart repose shall never know,
The ward where doth my loved one dwell alone can yield my soul repose.

O how I think upon thy box-tree form in sorrow's night so drear!
My story would Mejn u n's and Ferh a d's tales from mind make disappear.
My groans and sighs and wails thus high do I unto the Heavens uprear,
By reason of the sparks my sighings raise that steely bowl, the Sphere,
Revolves each night, my gold-enameled beaker at the feast of woes.

From thought of yonder witching eye my heart is ne'er a moment free;
When flow thy tears recall not thou to mind, O Leyl a , " Om a n's Sea.
Beneath thy shade my own heart's blood is all that hath been gained by me:
My tears, an ocean vast; my lashes, coral branches, O B a q i!
The mem'ry, 'tis of thy palm-form that as my Judas-tree bright glows.