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The Song of Grief |
My life is similar to that of the silent violin
The lap of which is full of all kinds of melodies
The harp of the universe is sacrificed on whose silence
Every string of which is the grave of hundreds of melodies
The silence of which is the custodian of music’s perfection
And the silence of which is not obligated to any uproar
Ah! The hope of my Love was never fulfilled
This instrument was never hit by the plectrum |
But sometimes the zephyr of the garden of Tur flows
And sometimes the breeze of Houri’s breath from the sky
Which gently touches the string of my life
And frees the imprisoned soul of my life
The gentle sound of the music of despair rises
The clarion’s call for the caravan of tears rises
Just as dew’s elegance depends upon the taste for racing
The elegance of my nature depends upon grief’s melodies! |
Translated by: M.A.K. Khalil |
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