Number 4

Number 4

Iraqi style

English

You are the compass of my soul, Gil, an angel in color and scent, moon in the sky of grace, cypress in the garden of longing. You are no mere Gil, you are an angel, molded from heart and soul. What is a mere Gil? Who else is so beautiful, so angelic in nature? My heart and my faith are sacrificed to you; take whatever you please. You are my compass; where would I wander, city to city, lane to lane? Your musk-scented curls, and all you do to my very soul, I would describe it, if you gave me the chance, strand by strand. If even for a moment your beauty is reflected in a mirror, when will such fortune come to me, to stand face to face with you? Last night with a coy glance you said: he is lost to sorrow through my beauty. Another time, out of kindness, tell that story of last night again. I said: you who are my soul's desire, you promised me our union. You said: don't ask about that tale, for it is over and done. I said: my dear one, I have been made wretched by love of you. You said: don't call yourself wretched, that talk is all worthless chatter. I said: I am your lover, tell me, what is my cure? You said: don't speak these words; without you I get by just fine. Qasemi, from separation and grief, is lost and unaware of himself. One lost to separation, by your grace, has vanished from the crowd.

Explanation: 'Gil' is the beloved's name, treated as both a personal name and a play on words (the poet insists she is more than a mere Gil, an angel). The poem mixes standard Persian with some Gilaki dialect phrasing in the dialogue lines.

Original · Persian

شمارهٔ ۴

قبله جان من تویی، گیل فرشته رنگ و بو ماه سپهر مکرمت، سرو ریاض آرزو

گیل نه‌ای، فرشته‌ای، وز دل و جان سرشته‌ای گیل که بو؟ که بو چنین حوروَش و فرشته‌خو؟

می دل و دین تی فدا، خوا ببری که وس خوشی قبله تویی، کجا روم شهر به شهر و کو به کو؟

تی سر زلف مشک‌بو، آنچه به من کری ز جان شرح دهم، اگر بود، با تو مجال، مو به مو

آینه را اگر رسد عکس جمال تو دمی کی رسد آنکه باشدش با تو مجال روبه‌رو؟

دوش به غمزه گفته‌ای: او ز نما ترا به غم نوبت دیگر از کرم قصه دوش باز گو

گفتمش: ای مراد جان، وعده وصل کرده‌ای گفت که: آن حکایتا وا مطلب، که آن بشو

گفتمش: ای عزیز من، خوار شدم ز عشق تو گفت که: نانه خوار بین، کاوره فن لا و لو

گفتم: عاشق تویم، چیست بگو دوای من؟ گفت: مگوی این سخن، بی‌تو مرا به سر بشو

قاسمی از فراق و غم گم شد و بی‌خبر ز خود گم شده فراق را از کرم تو و از جو