The Garden Of Bright Waters | Page 2

my father gave me for my forehead?Throw rays and light the hearts of far men;?The ray of light from my red ring is sharper than a diamond. I go about and about in pride as of hemp wine?And my words are chosen.?But I give you my honey cheeks, dear, I trust them to you." I have seen a small proud face brimming with sunlight.
The words of my mouth are coloured and shining things;?And two great saints are my perpetual guards.?There is never a song of Nur Uddin but has in it a great achievement And is as brilliant as a young hyacinth;?I pour a ray of honey on my disciples,?There is as it were a fire in my ballades.?I have seen a small proud face brimming with sunlight.
_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._
COME, MY BELOVED!
Come, my beloved! And I say again: Come, my beloved!?The doves are moaning and calling and will not cease.?Come, my beloved!
"The fairies have made me queen, and my heart is love.?Sweeter than the green cane is my red mouth."?Come, my beloved!
The jacinth has spilled odour on your hair,?The balance of your neck is like a jacinth;?You have set a star of green between your brows.?Come, my beloved!
Like lemon-trees among the rocks of grey hills?Are the soft colours of the airy veil?To your rose knee from your curved almond waist.?Come, my beloved!
Your light breast veil is tawny brown with stags,?Stags with eyes of emerald, hunted by red kings.?Come, my beloved!
Muhammad Din is wandering; he is drunken and mad;?For a year he has been dying. Send for the doctor!?Come, my beloved!
_From the Pus'hto of Muhammad Din Tilai (Afghans, nineteenth century)._
BALLADE OF MUHAMMAD KHAN
She has put on her green robe, she has put on her double veil, my
idol;?My idol has come to me.?She has put on her green robe, my love is a laughing flower; Gently, gently she comes, she is a young rose, she has come out of the
garden.
Gently she has shown her face, parting her veil, my idol;?My idol has come to me.?She has put on her green robe, my love is a young rose for me to
break.?Her chin has the smooth colour of peaches and she guards it well; She is the daughter of a Moghol house and well they guard her.
She put on her red jewels when she came with a noise of rings, my
idol;?My idol has come to me.?She has put on her green robe, my love is the stem of a rose; She breaks not, she is strong.?She has a throne, but comes into the woods for love.
I was well and she troubled me when she came to me in the evening, my
idol;?My idol has come to me.?She has put on her green robe, her wrist is a sword.?The villages speak of her; the child is as fair as Badri.?She has red lips and six hundred and fifty beads upon her light blue
scarf.?Give your garland to Muhammad Khan, my idol;?My idol has come to me.
_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._
GHAZAL OF TAVAKKUL
To-day I saw Laila's breasts, the hills of a fair city?From which my heart might leap to heaven.
Her breasts are a garden of white roses?Having two drifted hills of fallen rose-leaves.
Her breasts are a garden where doves are singing?And doves are moaning with arrows because of her.
All her body is a flower and her face is Shalibagh;?She has fruits of beautiful colours and the doves abide there.
Over the garden of her breasts she combs the gold rain of her hair.... You have killed Tavakkul, the faithful pupil of Abdel Qadir Gilani.
_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._
GHAZAL OF SAYYID KAMAL
I am burning, I am crumbled into powder,?I stand to the lips in a tossing sea of tears.
Like a stone falling in Hamun lake I vanish;?I return no more, I am counted among the dead.
I am consumed like yellow straw on red flames;?You have drawn a poisoned sword along my throat to-day.
People have come to see me from far towns,?Great and small, arriving with bare heads,?For I have become one of the great historical lovers.
In the desire of your red lips?My heart has become a red kiln, like a terrace of roses.?It is because she does not trouble about the bee on the rose That my heart is taken.
"I have blackened my eyes to kill you, Sayyid Kamal.?I kill you with my eyelids; I am Natarsa, the Panjabie, the pitiless."
_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._
GHAZAL OF SAYYID AHMAD
My heart is torn by the tyranny of women very quietly;?Day and night my tears are wearing away my cheeks very quietly.
Life is a red thing like the sun setting very quietly;?Setting quickly and heavily and very quietly.
If you are to buy heaven by a good deed, to-day the market is open; To-morrow is a day when no man buys,?And the caravan is broken up very quietly.
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