Zaburi Ajam [Electronic resources] نسخه متنی

17

With a glance at us who sit by the way

He goes riding by:

Conceive, if thou canst, my soul’s dismay

Sore distraught am I.

What have I to tell of the lovely fair

Unto anyone?

With a gaze as swift as a spark in the air

He is past and gone.

To the friend’s abode it is hard to tread

And the road is far;

But love rides high, and is quickly sped

On the back of a star.

What cause to despair, though the circling sky

Be wrapped in a veil?

It will pierce a rock, the audacious eye,

And it cannot fail.

Our sprinkled dew is an ocean wide,

And the sky its shore;

Let a lone wave break, and its swelling tide

Shall yet higher soar.

When thou shalt stand with him face to face,

Do not lift thine eyes;

For sight is vain in that holy place,

And the vision dies.

How should I weep, though sorrow sears?

For my broken heart

Is borne on the flood of my bitter tears,

And wi1l soon depart.