O, it was out by Donnycarney
When the bat flew from tree to tree
My love and I did walk together;
And sweet were the words she said to me.
Along with us the summer wind
Went murmuring -- - O, happily! -- -
But softer than the breath of summer
Was the kiss she gave to me.
O, how our love is murderous,
The dearer something is to us
The surer are we to destroy it
In passion's savage blindness!
Was it so long ago you said,
Proud of your victory: she's mine . . .
Barely a year gone - stop and think,
What has remained of her?
Where are the roses in her cheeks,
Her smiling lips and shining eyes?
Rivers of scalding tears
Have scorched and burned them all.
Do you remember how you met,
Your very first, your fateful t?te-?-t?te;
Her gaze enchanting and her words,
Her laughter --lively, child-like?
O you, far colder, whiter
Than she who makes less fair
The stars with shining there:
Her purest silver cannot dim
Nor any cloud, or rain or wind,
Your sweet brightness, lovely eyes.
Would you but turn to me, with delight,
I should be happy, and my life a dream.
O you, dear trees, you have learned so much of beauty,
You must have studied this only the ages long!
Men have thought of God and laughter and duty.
And of love. And of song.
But you, dear trees, from your birth to your hour of dying,
Have cared for this one way only of being wise.
Lovely, lovely, lovely, the sapling sighing.
Lovely the dead tree lies.
O word I love to sing! thou art too tender
For all the passions agitating me;
For all my bitterness thou art too tender,
I cannot pour my red soul into thee.
O haunting melody! thou art too slender,
Too fragile like a globe of crystal glass;
For all my stormy thoughts thou art too slender,
The burden from my bosom will not pass.
O tender word! O melody so slender!
O tears of passion saturate with brine,
O words, unwilling words, ye can not render
My hatred for the foe of me and mine.
O woe! The sky is thin, listless.
O woe! The stars are withered, extinguished.
O woe! The winds are still, dead.
O woe! The world is inhabited by graves.
O woe! Today, words have turned to stone.
O woe! Again and again, my heart swells, bursts, melts.
O woe! Do not ever become like me.
O woe! The waters of love are poisonous,
O woe! The road is long and harsh,
O woe! And ankle deep in thorns.
O woe! Here, you are robbed of everything .
O woe! Even death is not for you.
O woe! Today, the songs of love are bitter.
O were my Love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing;
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By autumn wild and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
O gin my Love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa';
O there, beyond expression blest,
O thou Nightingale of Madina?
What's that ghazal from the lips of thine
Which has made the rose of love
Bloom in the bower desert wild?
The song-birds started singing
In regions far and wide!
Thro 'the heights of. the etherial sky,
Rang thc Muazzine's melodious cry!
In the Sahara desert, parched cou1d dry,
Thou had created a garden of flowers
Where the Companions came like bees
And hummed the hymn of 'La Shareek'!
[Original in Bangla: Ay moru-parer hawa; Translation: Mizanur Rahman]
O store Gud! vi love Dig
Af Hjertens Grund evindelig!
I Naade seer Du til os ned,
Og evig er Din Miskundhed!
Lov-Sangen fra den frelste Jord
Sig blande med dit Engle-Chor!
Ja, Adams Æt istemmer glad
Cherubers og Serafers Kvad:
Hellig, Kiærlig, Stærk og Viis!
Evig Ære, Lov og Priis,
Alle vide Vegne fra,
Være Dig! Halleluja!
Du skabde Himlen underskiøn,
Og i dit Billed Støvets Søn!
Du styrted Aanden stolt i Hu,
Det faldne Støv opreiste Du!
O Radiance of life's morning! O gold without alloy!
O love that lives through all the years! O full, O perfect joy!
The hills of earth touch heaven, the heaven of blue and gold,
And angel voices swell the song of love and peace untold!
O radiance of life's morning!
The dew within the rose,
The fragrance fresh from Eden
That freights each breeze that blows!
Dear Christ, the wine of Cana pour out in rich supply,
These hearts keep young with gladness while all the years go by!
O radiance of life's morning!
O gold without alloy!