poetry

Every place you see  a rose or red tulip, they are tinted by the blood  of a fallen king. Every violet petal  that falls to the ground was a mole on the face  of a stunning beauty. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 104

Those who sow  a bit of reason in their hearts never waste a single moment of their lives. Either they seek  divine good pleasure, or they relax and raise a cup. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 99

It’s too bad if a heart lacks fire, and is deprived of the light  of a heart ablaze. The day on which you are without passionate love is the most wasted day of your life. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 117

The gentle breeze seems to have brought  your distant fragrance to my heart; it just abandoned me and went out looking high and low for you. And now it has forgotten  all about me. My heart has taken on your scent,  and your habits too. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 118

At first I looked for the pen of fate,  and the tablet on which it wrote, and heaven and hell in the skies above. Then my teacher guided me, saying that all four lie within you. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 114

I have no idea if  the one who created me placed me among  the good in paradise or the hideous in hell. A cup, a sweetheart, and a lute are cash enough for me and credit toward heaven  for you. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 94

I am a sinner, where is your acceptance? My heart is dark, where is your light  and clarity? If you grant me paradise because of my obedience, that is just a salary. Where is your grace and charity? Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 93

For a whole lifetime, I’ve made praising wine a constant exercise. I always have its  instruments around me. Prude, if reason  is your teacher here, cheer up– for your teacher  is my student. Translated by Juan Cole from [pdf] Whinfield 89