poem
v HEARKEN to the reed-flute, how it complains, بشنو از نی جون شکایت می کند
v Lamenting its banishments from its homeاز جدایی ها حکایت می کند
v “Ever since they tore me from my osier bed, کز نیستان تا مرا ببریده اند
v My plaintive notes have moved men and women to tears. در نفیرم مرد و زن نالیده اند
v I burst my breast, striving to give vent to sighs, سینه خواهد شرحه شرحه از فراق
v And to express the pangs of my yearning for my home. تا بگویم شرح درد اشتیاق
v He who abides far away from his home هر کسی کو دور ماند از اصل خویش
v Is ever longing for the day ho shall return. باز جوید روزگار وصل خویش
v My veining is heart in every throng, من به هر جمعیتی نالان شد
v In concert with them that rejoice and them that weep. جفت بد حا لان و خوش حالان شدم
v Each interprets my notes in harmony with his own feelings هر کسی از ظن خود شد یار من
v But not one fathoms the secrets of my heart. از درون من نجست اسرار من
v My secrets are not alien from my plaintive notes, سر من از ناله من دور نیست
v Yet they are not manifest to the sensual eye and ear. لیک چشم و گوش را آن نور نیست
v Body is not veiled from soul, neither soul from body, تن زجان و جان زتن مستور نیست
v Yet no man hath ever seen a soul.” لیک کس را دید جان دستور نیست
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