Muntakhab al-tawarikh 379.2

379.2

“I wander in the garden when thy face is not before me, shedding tears of the colour of tulips; I sit beneath each rose and tears of blood stream from my eyes. In my grief for thee I am filled with blood as a flask is filled with wine, and I desire To pour out at thy banquet like wine the blood with which I am filled. I shed not tears from my eyes except on the dust at thy door; How shall I pour forth my honour in the dust at every door? Remembering her wheat-coloured face I sow in the plot of desire The grains of my tears which are the seeds of love’s madness. I, Hashim, like the wine-flask, shed every moment red tears, while I sigh like an organ thinking on her wine-coloured lip.” ‘It is not thy mole, O silver-bodied one, that casts its reflection in the wine; It is the pupil of my eye, drowned in my heart’s blood.’ A quatrain: “O thou whose ringlets are the fetters of my love-sick heart, I am distracted by those two ringlets like ambergris in colour and perfume.