حافظ
O beautiful wine-bearer, bring forth the cup and put it to my lips
Path of love seemed easy at first, what came was many hardships
With its perfume, the morning breeze unlocks those beautiful locks
The curl of those dark ringlets, many hearts to shreds strips
In the house of my Beloved, how can I enjoy the feast
Since the church bells call the call that for pilgrimage equips
With wine color your robe, one of the old Magi’s best tips
Trust in this traveler’s tips, who knows of many paths and trips
The dark midnight, fearful waves, and the tempestuous whirlpool
How can he know of our state, while ports house his unladen ships
I followed my own path of love, and now I am in bad repute
How can a secret remain veiled, if from every tongue it drips
If His presence you seek, Hafiz, then why yourself eclipse
Stick to the One you know, let go of imaginary trips
الا یا ایها الـساقی ادر کاسا و ناولـها
که عشق آسان نمود اول ولی افتاد مشکل‌ها
بـه بوی نافه‌ای کاخر صبا زان طره بگـشاید
ز تاب جعد مشکینش چه خون افـتاد در دل‌ها
مرا در منزل جانان چه امـن عیش چون هر دم
جرس فریاد می‌دارد که بربندید مـحـمـل‌ها
بـه می سجاده رنگین کن گرت پیر مغان گوید
کـه سالک بی‌خبر نبود ز راه و رسم منزل‌ها
شـب تاریک و بیم موج و گردابی چنین هایل
کـجا دانـند حال ما سبکـباران ساحـل‌ها
همـه کارم ز خود کامی به بدنامی کشید آخر
نـهان کی ماند آن رازی کز او سازند محفل‌ها
حضوری گر همی‌خواهی از او غایب مشو حافظ
مـتی ما تلق من تهوی دع الدنیا و اهملـها
Romance by Edgar Allan Poe
Romance by Edgar Allan Poe
Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—most familiar bird
Taught me my alphabet to say
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie
A child—with a most knowing eye
Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings
A Day Dream by Emily Bronte
A Day Dream by Emily Bronte
On a sunny brae, alone I lay
One summer afternoon
It was the marriage-time of May
With her young lover, June
From her mother's heart, seemed loath to part
That queen of bridal charms
But her father smiled on the fairest child
He ever held in his arms
The trees did wave their plumy crests
The glad birds carolled clear
And I, of all the wedding guests
Was only sullen there
There was not one, but wished to shun
My aspect void of cheer
The very grey rocks, looking on
Asked, "What do you here
And I could utter no reply
In sooth, I did not know
Why I had brought a clouded eye
To greet the general glow
So, resting on a healthy bank
I took my heart to me
And we together sadly sank
Into a reverie.
We thought, "When winter comes again
Where will these bright things be
All vanished, like a vision vain
An unreal mockery
The birds that now so blithely sing
Through deserts, frozen dry
Poor spectres of the perished spring
In famished troops, will fly
And why should we be glad at all
The leaf is hardly green
Before a token of its fall
Is on the surface seen
Now, whether it were really so
I never could be sure
But as in fit of peevish woe
I stretched me on the moor
A thousand thousand gleaming fires
Seemed kindling in the air
A thousand thousand silvery lyres
Resounded far and near
Me thought, the very breath I breathed
Was full of sparks divine
And all my heather-couch was wreathed
By that celestial shine
And, while the wide earth echoing rung
To their strange minstrelsy
The little glittering spirits sung
Or seemed to sing, to me
"O mortal! mortal! let them die
Let time and tears destroy
That we may overflow the sky
With universal joy
Let grief distract the sufferer's breast
And night obscure his way
They hasten him to endless rest
And everlasting day
To thee the world is like a tomb
A desert's naked shore
To us, in unimagined bloom
It brightens more and more
And could we lift the veil, and give
One brief glimpse to thin eye
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live
Because they live to die
The music ceased; the noonday dream
Like dream of night, withdrew
But Fancy, still, will sometimes deem
Her fond creation true