Persian Poetry - A sample

"The Gem and The Mine"
A Poem by : Kamal-od-Din Khajoo Kermani

Of thee I tell thee secrets
in a wordless language;
From thee I ask the way to thee
on a traceless trace.

In vain thou concealest thyself
from the eyes, for thy sun-like face
Beams through heavenly veil
like the light of day.

What a delicate concept thou art,
far above reasoning!
What a divine Verse thou art,
needless of interpretation!

How can I close my eyes to thee?
Thou art the lamp inside the eye.
How can I part with thee?
Thou art the resident in the soul.

We are all rays and thou art the candle;
We are all substance and thou art the spirit;
We are all raindrops and thou art the ocean;
We are all gems and thou art the mine.

I have never seen a face like thine,
so graceful point by point;
I have never seen a scripture like thee,
so meaningful verse by verse.

So mercilessly injuring Khajoo's heart
with the arrow of thy coquettish glances
Is far from the way of friendship
and against the rules of affection.

Translated into English by
Mahmud Kianush

RUBAIYAT
By Omar Khayyam

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes-
Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.

Ah! my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
To-day of past Regrets and future Fears
To-morrow?--Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same Door as in I went.

Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

Indeed, the idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much Wrong:
Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputationfor a Song.

Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.

"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"--think some:
Others--"How blest the Paradise to come!"
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul

Translation by Edward J. Fitzgerald (1859)