English
The Messenger Goes to the Beloved
Once more that enchanting, swift bird set out,
as I bowed my face to the ground before it.
Out of friendship it stepped onto the road,
and pledged its very life to the task.
It moved gracefully toward that free-standing cypress
and, with sweetness, loosened a clever tongue.
Saying: You, fresh bud in the garden of youth,
you are the soul to my heart, the life to my soul.
Your beauty is a fountain of light to the soul's eye;
may the evil eye stay far from your face.
Your delicate charm gives off the scent of amber;
your fragrance has turned the whole garden into perfume.
The hundred-petaled rose dies at your feet,
and the tall pine falls dead before your stature.
The musk of Tartary is shamed by a single strand of your hair;
the moon and sun have thrown themselves onto the dust of your street.
May you always be happy and blessed with fortune,
and enjoy your beauty and your years.
To me you are both soul and life itself;
so do not treat me with coldness any longer.
Listen to the counsel of one who nursed you;
value what you have, for it is precious.
While young, take full advantage of youth;
seize your share of joy while its turn lasts.
It is the young who follow the path of love;
have you ever heard of an old man falling in love?
A young person who never found joy in loving,
know for certain, has thrown his youth to the wind.
With kindness, win people's hearts to your side;
never wound anyone's heart while you can help it.
Do not hurt that helpless stranger;
no one holds their own friends as enemies.
See how gracefully the wise, who string words like pearls,
have put this saying into verse.
When you find a buyer for your indigo,
if you are still on the Nile, unload your cargo.