Probability of Two Rivers

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    تاريخ التسجيل : 14/09/2010

    Probability of Two Rivers

    مُساهمة  Admin في الإثنين أبريل 15, 2013 2:21 pm

    Translated by Muhiddein Assaf


    Mirrors,
    Are these brilliant hearts on all compass points -
    Our eternal waiting for splendour.
    Mirrors,
    Are stations that expect, transparently
    Your appearance to smell the fragrance of shabboy.
    I see the dance of mirrors happy with your angelic,
    Sitting in front of them.
    I am hearing their songs
    In spite of your harshness
    And I remain jealous of the mirrors.

    So why do you accuse me of desertion?
    Is not the jealousy the rebellious face of love?
    Jealousy is an emancipation of the senses from its quiet world
    An excitement of feelings in your fields
    The shout of the soul while it is battering your high walls
    The madness of the heart which is astray in your forests
    From the Babylonian Joy till the last poem of Al-Sayyab
    At the midday of Basrah -
    Unattainable. The woodcutters do not know
    Only the hunters of the footsteps of life -
    Like the exhalations of Kais Ibn Al-Mollawah which the old
    In loveliness and verse
    Continue to their immortality with smiles.

    As a scholar fiery with passion
    On your pages my days flow.
    In your books my love sets
    Three sad states
    Where the rivers Tigris and Euphrates cross
    Separated
    And their passport is always hope.
    In the end fish become confused on the coasts
    My beloved ...
    Perhaps the Euphrates is jealous of the Tigris
    From the in-flowing tributaries?
    Jealousy is love’s ember;
    By its extinguishing love will die,
    And by its glowing it will die.

    Yesterday your sad eyes were looking at me disillusioned
    While I wrote that my heartbeat throbs on your lips.
    I release psalms to protect you from your shadow.
    On your breast my revelation quarrels
    With your sighs;
    Your sighs themselves are quarrelsome.
    I’ll make the stars into a necklace, embellished by your neck
    And wonder flirtatiously.
    The dews of your neck are my flames!
    You are the sorrow of my sorrows and the release of my madness!
    You are the beginning of my beginnings
    And the first commencement!
    For your sake, I drove all the Myths until they sank in the sea,
    The throne of the Goddess Ecstasy in your palms!
    You, for whom words entreat:
    Blackbirds learn from you how to broadcast their longings
    To grant existence to what has been missed.
    You, for whom swallows migrate while
    The Dove is crying out for your love.

    Here your womanliness is epitomized,
    Your transparency is eternity,
    And your sweetness is an aura.
    From your springs Al-Haulage Ibn. Arabi,
    Sahrawardi and Jalal Aldeen Al-Romi have drunk.
    They have been the heroic slain of your fascination
    And your apostles for immortality.

      الوقت/التاريخ الآن هو الأربعاء نوفمبر 14, 2018 1:56 am