I Read a Title in Your Face
I discerned a title within your countenance,
A prelude to betrayal, signaling the dawn.
By God, I cannot forget what I reminisced about my childhood,
Nor what I recounted to the Almighty with yearning.
The day we met, you greeted me with a frown,
The frown of a debt-laden individual, weary and worn.
How could I forget that moment, lingering awake,
Nor can I forget that moment and the sharpness of your gaze.
I approached from afar, and it misled me,
Into believing you had encountered a devil.
Our meeting lasted but a fleeting moment; you burdened me,
As if you carried the weight of creation upon your eyelids.
As though you contained within me,
My youthful spirit, just as it was before.
Or like the sea of China, surging in a whirlwind,
Or the torrents of the Arvand and the Thaghlan.
Or all that was beyond the grasp of
Neither Jesus nor Moses from the tribes of Imran.
Oh, splendid face! You have sullied it,
So blend mercy with your beauty.
You are fickle, criminalizing your own trust,
Shaded by the hours that paint you in different hues.
You cut off that connection only to hasten to
The one who will quench your thirst for connection.
Until when I sought you, you punished me,
Branding me with disdain and estrangement.
And you seek to soften the rough times,
While appreciating all that is gentle.
You make promises, yet fulfilling them,
Turns out to be a betrayal when the moment is near.
And when you do fulfill it once,
You extend your favors in secrecy and in plain sight.
And I do not favor the promise-breaker,
Nor do I hold dear the gratitude of the ungrateful.
You warned me against people, for I find myself,
In a world where I am unnerved by humanity.
You insulted me deeply, yet you dignified me,
For perhaps a person’s honor thrives upon their disgrace.
It Is Love, So Surrender Your Heart to It, For Love Is Not Easy
It is love, so yield your heart to it; after all, love is no simple matter,
It is not chosen lightly, nor can a weary mind grasp it.
Live in solitude, for love is its own comfort,
Its beginning brings sickness, while its end often leads to death.
Yet for me, death in love is a cherished longing,
A life for whom I adore, for in that lies my grace.
I advised you with knowledge about love, and what I behold,
Contrary to my benefit, choose what pleases you.
If you wish to live happily, then die for love,
Otherwise, romance has its rightful inheritors.
For who has not died in love has not lived through it,
With no sweeter harvest than the sweetness gathered by bees.
Cling to the threads of love and cast aside fear,
And allow the devout souls their way, even if they should err.
Tell the slain by love: You paid your debts,
And to the pretender, “Heavens, what profit is there in false consolation?”
Some ventured into love and turned away,
Meanwhile, they neglected my health in their frivolous pursuits.
They accepted mere dreams and were ensnared by their fortunes,
Plunging into love’s seas, claiming to be unscathed.
They persisted on the journey but remained stationary,
Unmoved in their endeavors while weary of the way.
In my creed, having preferred blindness over guidance,
Out of jealousy from their very souls, they strayed.
O beloved hearts, love is my intercessor,
Should you choose, the bond can still connect us.
May your compassion toward me arise from a glance,
For the messengers between us have become tired.
O dearest ones! You are the finest in this epoch,
So be as you wish, this is merely my fate.
If my fortune entails your estrangement, then for me,
That estrangement feels like reunion.
And no rejection feels less than affection, as long as there is no aversion,
Yet the most difficult of all is your indifference.
And the torment from you is sweet to me; your injustice,
Upon me denotes love’s fairness.
And my patience remains a testament for you, and despite the pain,
I find joy within your absence, almost like ambrosia.
You took my heart, which is but a portion of me; so tell me,
What harm would it bring you if it were entirely yours?
You have distanced yourself, and beyond my tears,
I have not found anyone true apart from the toll of anguish.
My gaze is alive, though I dwelt amidst tombs,
And in my sleep, it lies cold, with my tears as its ceremonial wash.
Love has spilled like blood between the ruins; who among
My eyes survives the cascade from its banks?
Crowds mocked me, seeing me smitten,
Claiming, “This youth has fallen into folly.”
What else could they say about me, except then,
For him, day and night entwine; yet I find delight in this encumbrance.
The ladies of the neighborhood spoke: “Why reminisce about one
Who has neglected us, only to hold onto chains after freedom?”
As blessings glimmer upon me with fleeting glances,
Neither joy nor beauty extends a lasting grace.
And my vision, rusted by gazes other than hers,
For the clench of her eyelids unveils my distress.
They know I am the victim of her sight,
For every limb of hers bears a blade of my heart’s despair.
My words are seasoned in her affection, my sentiments,
Are now known after the distance that was before.
And there is none like me in passion for her; should they
Speak of her, I am all ears prepared to listen.
It is forbidden to discuss my woes in her presence, and yet I freely
Accept what remains of passion, in my blood, the sweetness.
Although my condition worsens, it benefits from her presence unwittingly,
And what degraded my standing in the realm of passion, climbs new heights.
I have encapsulated the essence of my struggle within these words,
For I have endured both vexation and pleasure.
I concealed this longing until even those seeking my return,
Find it elusive to discover.
And no eye has ever laid upon my trace, nor has
Any solitary traveler perceived what I have suffered in silence.
And my fervent desire stirs higher each time she is remembered,
And my essence elevates, even when she appears distant.
Her love flows through my veins; now my heart is ensnared,
For every engagement is woven around her, every distraction centered on her.
Hasten to passionately offer yourself; should she accept you,
Your sacrifices shall echo endlessly.
For he who is ungrateful to love, with himself falters,
No matter the wealth relinquished, the deed will return to him.
If not for the nuances of guardianship and jealousy,
Whether the lovers are multitude or few, it matters not.
I would implore the lovers of charm: Come to her,
In my opinion, for the rest, turn your backs.
And should she be mentioned, let our heads bow in reverence,
And if her visage graces our sight, let us extend our salutations.
For in loving her, I have bartered happiness for misery,
Foolishly, for my mind has wandered with love’s grace.
I spoke to my reason, to piety, to righteousness:
“Let go; what stands between me and love has lost its hold.”
I emptied my heart of existence, wholly devoted,
Perhaps in my dedication to her, solitude could merge.
For her sake, I strive to fulfill duties that bind us,
And I travel without reservations for the duties are merciless.
So I find solace in those who meddle between us,
To reveal what troubles me, and what gaps she does not see.
I yearn for those who admonish me, for the sake of mentioning her,
As if they are messengers in this vast realm of love.
If they speak of her, my ears are always attentive.
And in speaking of her, they share sentiments, echoing my yearnings.
Words and rumors collide in ways that diverge,
In a maze of assumptions between us that has no foundation.
Some have denounced our connection, though we remain connected,
And some have spread tales of solace, yet I have not found comfort.
For the absurdities spread about me are mere fabrications,
And the tales of my love have been misreported.
How can I hope for intimacy from one who, should she desire,
Would have no doubt, yet obstacles obscure her path.
Should she promise, her actions will blur the lines of her intentions;
Should she intend something, her statements are clouded by time.
Advise me of affections, wish me fulfillment,
For when love is true, the heart rejoices.
And the bond that unites us, which I have not severed,
And the contract placed in our hands shall never fade.
For you, amidst the turmoil of longing and the pleasure of love,
With my heart, during every moment, nothing maintains its distance.
Soon you shall see my eye upon you, those I hold dear,
And my fortunes will be reflected in the bonds we share.
Yet those left behind, even in thought, remain present.
In having them close to my thoughts, my memory fashions their form.
They remain permanently entrenched in my vision, even when distance keeps us apart,
And forever, I harbor affection toward them, even if they seem indifferent.