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I’m
a nightingale. Here’s my sad song.
From garden of roses. Now I’ve begun.
See the tears in my eyes? There they belong.
What pleasure in life when loving is done?
Kohl becomes my lover’s eyes,.
Darker than the evening skies,
Lips as sweet as butterflies,
Warm the jungle of her hair.
Alas, my soul in frailty
Takes comfort in her cruelty –
Even her eyebrows chasten me!
So how endure that maiden’s stare?
And yet in grieving I rejoice –
Her raven hair allows no choice.
My songbird of the tuneful voice
Makes madrigals of parting fair.
Why does my heart neglect its duties?
Because she is the Khan of beauties
And as my orchard where fruit is
Perfumes gardens everywhere.
She lives where towers with sunrise flame.
Her promise was – but mine’s the blame…
Mengli’s the music that’s her name –
Yet there’s an end to our affair.
I’m a nightingale. This is my song
For her I love, who dwells among
Bowers where I may no more belong.
Now Makhtumkuli’s heart’s laid bare. |