When, hidden among thick branches, some sparrow sings,

Why does a spark of longing flare up in my heart?

When I see beautiful cattle grazing in pastures,

Why do I then go on searching for sober scenes?

When, at dawn, women go out to the well

And when they mimic, by clapping, the rhythm of reddish clay pots,

For whom do I go searching in desolate palaces?

For whom do I come back after I have kissed the broken balcony? 

Suddenly, when the cuckoo’s call rises through the languid night,

Why does an imaginary pang invade in my heart?

When, on cold nights, stars flicker upon the sky,

Of what Venus-like form do I dream?

Who is fluttering those eyes again and again within the stars?

Whose reflection is this in the poppy-field of sunset?

She becomes a pearl, then shines in reddish mother-of-pearl;

In the garden, she becomes a rose and hibiscus, and then gives off fragrance;

Sometimes she hides in the camphor lamp, then shines;

Sometimes she becomes clouds and spreads over the wilderness and fields,

Sometimes in dreadful battles, sometimes in peaceful cities, 

Sometimes in the careless waving of a fluttering scarf,

Sometimes in the moldy begging bag of destitute girls,

Sometimes in the broken lispings of children’s innocent speech,

Sometimes in saddened eyes, sometimes in bright lamps,

Sometimes in clay cups, sometimes in crystal goblets. 

Becoming intoxication, someone is engulfing my dreams; 

Wherever you look, she beckons with faint signs.

.

 1938

From: Jalāl o jamāl (Splendor and Beauty), 1938. p. 225