Come my dark eyed one come and show your kindness,
Turn the garden of my heart into a flowerbed, for the blossom that is your face,
And the rest your slender form so like the sapling in the garden that is my heart.
Splash the hooves your brave steed in me heart's blood.
And weave a leash for your dog from the tendons of my sad soul.
O Heaven, if at the foot of the mountain of separtation my dust is discovered,
Knead it into the dough and sculpt from it a powerful stone mason.
If you wish to encapture hearts in love by a meeting with you,
Curl your long hair into ringlets.
There is little the gardener can do to stop the advance of the fall,
Should he even spike the roof of his garden with pine needles.
O my friend, should I suddenly die at the sight of perspiration on your face,
Bathe me in rose water and lay me to rest in a shroud made of rose petals.
Navoi, if you can put your heart all into a bouquet of joy,
Pick a sheaf of wheat and touching a flame to it let this candle be the revelation of the nosegay.
Alisher Navoi* (1441 – 1501) Uzbekistan (born in Afghanistan)
Translator not stated
Source: ziyouz.uz
* Also known as ʿAli-Shir Nava'i; Nizām-al-Din; ʿAli-Shir Herawī
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