The Garden of Bright Waters Part 2

GHAZAL OF MUHAMMAD DIN TILAI

The world is fainting, And you will weep at last.

The world is fainting And falling into a swoon.

The world is turning and changing; The world is fainting, And you will weep at last.

Look at the love of Farhad, who pierced a mountain And pierced a bra.s.s hill for the love of Shirin.

The world is fainting, And you will weep at last.

Qutab Khan of the Ranizais was in love And death became the hostess of his lady.

The world is fainting, And you will weep at last.

Adam loved Durkho, and they were separated.

You know the story; There is no lasting love.

The world is fainting, And you will weep at last.

_Muhammad Din_ is ill for the matter of a little honey; This is a moment to be generous.

The world is fainting, And you will weep at last.

_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._

MICRA

When you lie with me and love me, You give me a second life of young gold; And when you lie with me and love me not, I am as one who puts out hands in the dark And touches cold wet death.

_From the Pus'hto of Mirza Rahchan Kayil (Afghans, nineteenth century)._

BALLADE OF MUHAMMAD DIN TILAI

A twist of fresh flowers on your dark hair, And your hair is a panther's shadow.

On your white cheeks the down of a thousand roses, They speak about your beauty in Lah.o.r.e.

You have your mother's lips; Your ring is frosted with rubies, And your hair is a panther's shadow.

Your ring is frosted with rubies; I was unhappy and you looked over the wall, I saw your face among the crimson lilies; There is no armour that a lover can buy, And your hair is a panther's shadow.

"The cool fingers of the mistress burn her lovers And they go away.

I have fatigued the wise of many lands, And my hair is a tangle of serpents.

What is the profit of these shawls without you?

And my hair is a panther's shadow."

"A squadron of my father's men are about me, And I have woven a collar of yellow flowers.

My eyes are veiled because I drink cups of bhang, Being a daughter of the daughter of queens.

You cannot touch me because of my palaces, And my hair is a panther's shadow."

I will touch you, though your beauty be as fair as song; For I am a disciple of Abdel Qadir Gilani, And my songs are as beautiful as women and as strong as love; And your hair is a panther's shadow.

Your ring is frosted with rubies....

_Muhammad Din_ awaits the parting of your scarves; _Tilai_ is standing here, young and magnificent like a tree; And your hair is a panther's shadow.

_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._

GHAZAL OF MIRA

The lover to his la.s.s: I have fallen before your door.

I came to ask for alms and have lost my all, I had a copper-shod quarter-staff but the dogs attacked me, And not a strand of her hair came the way of my lips.

The lover to his la.s.s: I have fallen before your door.

The lamp burns and I must play the green moth.

I have stolen her scented rope of flowers, But the women caught me and built a little gaol About my heart with your old playthings.

The lover to his la.s.s: I have fallen before your door.

_Mira_ is a mountain goat that climbs to die Upon the top peak in the rocks of grief; It is the hour; make haste.

The lover to his la.s.s: I have fallen before your door.

_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._

GHAZAL OF MAJID SHAH

Grief is hard upon me, Master, for she has left me; The black dust has covered my pretty one.

My heart is black, for the tomb has taken my friend; How pleasantly would go the days if my friend were here.

I can only dream of the stature of my friend; The flowers are dying in my heart, my breast is a fading garden.

Her breast is a sweet garden now, and her garments are gold flowers; I am an orchard at night, for my friend has gone a journey.

I am _Majid Shah_, a slave that ministers to the dead; Abdel Qadir Gilani, even the Master, shall not save me.

_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._

GHAZAL OF MIRA

The world pa.s.ses, nothing lasts, and the creation of men Is buried alive under the vault of Time.

Autumn comes pillaging gardens; The bulbuls laugh to see the flowers falling.