CONTENTS
Tumultuous Love whereer it rove
Whence sprang the flaming fire
Thou who didst make more ardent
Though dust, and dark as dust, am I
Though the falcon of the brain
What is the world? The temple of my thought
It is the season of the spring
From life and beings twisted skein
Rise! and upon the thirsty land
Thinkest thou that to the threshold
With a glance at us who sit by the way
All that in life I love the best
The night grows late, the route is up
The juice that maketh tulips spring
Why in the concourse dost thou seek
Thine is the hawk upon the wing
At home to loiter never did me please
Thou didst turn my night to dawning
Tell me this: what is thy share
If vision self-effacement bring
Thy light defineth all things one by one
Give me the heart whose rapture fine
To passions slaves let no man eer
Ah, the wine, the lute, the piping
The East, that holds the heavens fast
How long the veil of eve and dawn
One by one we count our breath
Lord, who didst bring the stars to birth
Thou canst pass, like mornings breeze
I am the slave of each living heart
Drunk with self hood like a wave
Out of Hejaz and the lonely plain
Greed is acting still his play
Although the Angel dwells beyond
Sleeper, rise thou up, and fast!
A melody swept me through and through
In the heart of the birds, that range
Of the hirelingss blood outpoured
Whether the world be foul or fair
Beyond heavens shuttered dome
No friend in the world entire thou wilt find
The fine science thou dost learn
Love want searching thro the earth
I boast a love that is not grieved
The Saqi, pouring his pure wine
Brighter shall shine mens clay
The world, but not selfhood, thou canst see
What man art thou, and where thy home?
In the abode of passion, where
The young beloved, the ancient wine
Leave him who never won to sight
It chanced within the desert nigh
Fool! Is there then such hope in thee
Eschew the West, and do not be
This brand of grief, His love apart
When the tulips heart I viewed
This is a world, that like to it
Spring is come; bright glances dart
Whence hath this commotion swirled
Tulip in the mountains blowing
Gulshan-i Raz-i Jadid
and
Bandagi Nama
Introduction by the Translator
GULSHAN-I RAZ-I JADID
BANDAGI NAMAH
On the Fine Arts of the Slaves