Tuesday, 3 January 2017

The Cloud Rains - Amir Khosrow

Cloud raining, and I from my friend am separated:
          how can, on such a day, the hearts be so separated?

You and rain and cloud are standing to make farewells
         and I weeping, and you and the rain separated.

Though leaves are new risen, passion is fresh, and the garden green,
          the nightingale is silent, from its sanctuary separated.

As the hair grows, from root to head-top, I am bound in service:
          how can all that longing suddenly be separated?

Let not, when tearfulness holds you in the pupil of vision,
          my eye from that tearfulness be separated.

My pride in observance that stays on from this
          retains its luxury of looking though so separated.

In its hundred conceptions the eye is of dust
          make haste if you'd not from acceptance be separated.

What would you think, that my soul would leave
          with the guardian and garden then so separated?

Nor will your beauty continue if from Khusraw kept
          as a flower from its thorn when so separated.

Amir Khosrow (full name: Ab'ul Hasan Yamin ud-Din Khusrow) (1253 – 1325) India
Translated by Colin John Holcombe
Source: Textetc

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