Poem # 7
tamanna chaani deedaruk.....
how I yearn for you
Like the yemberzal for her bee !
These eyes have always ached for you
Ever since I bloomed.
O graceful tree, all abloom
With many a bright-hued flower !
Wouldn't the sight of the myriad blooms
Madden me with desire ?
Being genteel, I stood away,
Trying to hide love's surging waves;
But the arrow of your glance gave me
A wound that'll never heal !
O my elusive sweetheart,
How I always pine for you,
How every fibre of my being
Burns with the fire of love !
You are in dalliance with others,
While my companions are my tears.
Since I daren't move out in daytime,
I'll search for you at night.
Which fortunate soul has your heart ?
Could she be one like me ?
Which masval holds you captive
Out of jealousy of me ?
O come to my gatch - plastered room,
Where a carpet's spread for you,
And let me weep into your bosom,
Enfolded in your arms !
What made you fall for other dames ?
Which pale yellow rose
Cunningly cast a spell on you
To have you in her arms ?
Paying homage to beauty, Mahjoor
Makes this pledge to his friend:
'It's you and you alone
That can claim my ardent passion !'
Poem # 8
bazi karithuy tsolkha
soon after enchanting me you left, O wizard !
Life's springtime, O my youth !
How like midsummer was my youth,
Tempting the world with lifted veil !
But alas, the blossoms remained for a day !
Like a cedar in the forest, enjoying
The river bank's pubescent green.
Cut it not down, O stern woodman !
Like a blazing pinewood fire,
Showering sparks with tongues of flame.
Spent is its force, the fire is out !
Alas ! it was only a dream so sweet,
That my grief was great when it was gone.
O could I dream that dream again !
A sweet-throated bird in the garden,
Singing perched on a flowering bough !
Don't aim your arrow, O king of hunters !
A garden aflame with the bright red colour
Of the blossoms of pomegranates !
But the autumn wind destroyed the bloom.
Like the hurrying waters of Rambi stream,
Which rush down but can't turn back,
Though the grass on the banks may wither!
I stand forsaken by the Lord of Youth,
And soot has covered my jessamine frame.
My eyes starve to see him again.
I am the forlorn Zuleika on the road,
My love, Yusuf's footfall awaiting.
I yearn to meet him once again.
Sweet boyhood and mad youth gone for ever,
Mahjoor remembers his earliest friend.
Do not desert me, O friend of my youth