46
Stars on my bosom shine Wept from these eyes of mine: Lo, beyond heaven’s height; Cast me the joy of sight;
Soared, though in dust I lay, High o’er the starry way,— Life of the ember’s glow Likes me not, Thou dost know.
All the world’s eve and morn Are of my whirling born; Thou know’st this morn and eve My soul can scarce receive.
Wine brimmed in heaven’s cup; I took and drank it up; Saki! not sparing be— Another bowl for me!
Not both the worlds suffice My folly’s avarice; Earth is a passing day, Heaven a passage way.
47
The East, that holds the heavens fast Within the noose its fancy cast, Its spirit’s bonds are all united, The flames of its desire have died.
The burning glow of living birth Pulses no more in its dark earth; It stands upon the river side And gazes at the surging tide.
Faint, faint the fires of worship be In temple and in sanctuary; The Magian still his cup would pass, But stale the wine is in his glass.
The vision of the West is blind, Illusion fills the Western mind; Drunken with magic scent and hue, It bows before the great untrue.
Swifter it spins than heaven’s sphere; Death is a gentler ravisher; Its fingers have so torn my soul, Never again can it be whole.
Of the earth earthy, it would try To emulate the ancient sky; A rogue, a cheat, of works immense, With pivot none, and little sense.
The East is waste and desolate, The West is more bewildered yet The ardent quest inspires no more, Death reigns supreme the whole world o’er.
Bring me the wine of heart’s delight, And spread the banquet of the night; Give me the bold, adventurous eye, And in love’s transport let me die.
48
Leave no quarter to resist To this restless heart of mine Give Thy curls another twist, Let Thy tresses intertwine.
In my heart Thy lightning shone Radiant as flashing gold, Which the expectant sun and moon Marvelled sorely to behold.
Holy joy to dwell with thee Fashioned world idolatry; Love with his deceitful art Ever cheats the hopeful heart.
Come the meadow bird again To the green and meadowed plain, That with mind devoid of care I may tune a sweet, new air.
A high soul Thou gavest me; Loose my bonds, and set me free? Kingly raiment I would spurn If Thy sackcloth I may earn.
If the axe (as legend says) Cleave the rock, shall that amaze Love upon his shoulder bears Such a mountain range of cares!
49
My soul, embattled With fortune ever, Weeps like a river Among the mountains.
Open and secret Fate is assailing, To the unfailing Fickle and faithless.
Mountain and desert, Ocean and prairie Secret unwary Unsympathising.
Stranger to passion, Stranger to yearning Rivulet’s turning,
Spray of the fountains. Pale lamentation’s Flameless outpouring Nightingales soaring Song in the thicket.
No wine of Saki, No spirits’ riot; The soul unquiet Bitterly suffers.
No wine of Saki, No spirits’ riot; The soul unquiet Bitterly suffers.
(۵۰)
In Thy hands I now deliver Once again my restless heart; It will never cease from labour For the ease Thou wouldst impart
Hapless heart! whose whole affliction Is the counting of the breath, Having not within its power To be lord of life and death.
In Thy thought as I was slumb’ring Thou, desirous of display, This Thy pearl of lustrous beauty From Thy breast didst cast away.
Loud complaint they laid against thee, Moon and stars (didst Thou not hear?) That Thy spark Thou hast enkindled In my ashes dark and drear.
In my breast His arrow pricking— There is glory, there is fame! If I cast myself before Him, He’d not seize me for His game.