English
To a Beloved Friend
Morning breeze, you who know my longing,
at dawn pass through the garden where my beloved walks.
When you have won your wish and kissed that dust,
carry my greeting there in blood at the beloved's door.
Then voice the lovers' grief at being apart;
and if you lack the nerve, borrow it from their hearts.
Tell the beloved: just once, light up your face with kindness,
and make the free souls of the world your slaves.
My life hangs on my lips, waiting for your step;
with half a glimpse, finish off these martyrs of love.
They will not settle for freedom from your curls;
think of some other plan for those caught in the snare.
We know you give no love to your captives;
stay cruel to us, then, but at least call it love.
Open your lips in the lawful magic of a smile,
and make the miracle of Christ's red lips forbidden.
Without the lasso of your hair the heart slips from itself;
bind this madman in the chain of your snare.
Your kindness is an empty place in our walking-ground;
it is a lovely spot; complete our joy there.
We have burned in the sun of the valley of your absence;
O cloud, keep your shade forever over our heads.
Take a step or two along the road of faithfulness,
so that till the Day of Judgment love and loyalty serve you.
We are the withered garden, you the cloud of early spring;
turn us into paradise and take your place within.
The heart's craving for union with you is a need it cannot give up;
tell it to give up its head, but never to give up that wish.
And if, like a flame, you rebel and will not yield,
tell the moth to burn on, still chasing the same vain dream.