On the precipice of my fall

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1. shirin says

   June 13, 2011 at 5:35 pm

   magar shēr o palanhē ey dil ey dil
   be me dāyem be jangē ey dil ey dil
   agar dastem rasa xūnet barējim
   beuinim ta che rangē ey dil ey dil

   A Lion or a Tiger thou might be,
   Ever, O Heart, O Heart, at war with me;
   Fall but into my hands, I’ll spill thy Blood,
   That I may know what to make of thee.

   xurāyīn cheh-rī-et afrūta tar bī
   bejānim tir-i ishqet dūta tar bī
   ze che xāl-i roxat zuni sīyāha?
   har on nazdik-i khur bī sūta-tar bī

   O may thy sunny face grow brighter yet,
   May thy love’s arrow split my heart in twain;
   Know thou why thy cheek’s mole is so black?
   All things become burnt black close to the sun!

   bē toe yikdam dilim xorram namuna
   vagar rūyi toe vīinim qam namuna
   agar dard-i dilim qesmat namāyand
   dilē bē dard dar ālam namuna

   Without thee my heart has no moment’s peace,
   And if I see thy face my grief has fled;
   If all men had a share in my heart’s grief;
   No heart in all the world but would be sad.

   bōra sūta dilun tā mā banālēm
   ze dast-i yār-i bē parvā banalēm
   baŝēm bā bulbul-i sheidā be gulŝan
   agar bulbul nanāla mā banālēm

   O Burnt-in-Heart, come ye and mourn with me,
   Mourn we the flight of that most lovely Rose;
   Vie we with the ecstatic Nightingale to the Garden,
   And when she ceases mourning, we will mourn.

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2. shirin says

   June 13, 2011 at 5:32 pm

   har on baqē ke vāreŝ sar be dar bī
   modāmeŝ bāqebun xūnin jigar bī
   bebāyad kandaŝ az bix o az bon
   agar bāresh hama la’l o gohar bī

   When Trees to grow beyond their boundaries dare,
   They Cause the Gardeners much anxious care;
   Down to their very roots they must be pruned,
   Though Pearls and Rubies be the Fruits they bear.

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