Marriage Thoughts: by Morsellin Khan
BridegroomI give you my house and my lands, all golden with harvest;My sword, my shield, and my jewels, the spoils of my strife,My strength and my dreams, and aught I have gathered of glory,And to-night—to-night, I shall give you my very life.
BrideI may not raise my eyes, O my Lord, towards you,And I may not speak: what matter? my voice would fail.But through my downcast lashes, feeling your beauty,I shiver and burn with pleasure beneath my veil.
Younger SistersWe throw sweet perfume upon her head,And delicate flowers round her bed.Ah, would that it were our turn to wed!
MotherI see my daughter, vaguely, through my tears,(Ah, lost caresses of my early years!)I see the bridegroom, King of men in truth!(Ah, my first lover, and my vanished youth!)
BrideAlmost I dread this night. My senses fail me.How shall I dare to clasp a thing so dear?Many have feared your name, but I your beauty.Lord of my life, be gentle to my fear!
Younger SistersIn the softest silk is our sister dressed,With silver rubies upon her breast,Where a dearer treasure to-night will rest.
Dancing GirlsSee! his hair is like silk, and his teeth are whiterThan whitest of jasmin flowers. Pity they marry him thus.I would change my jewels against his caresses.Verily, sisters, this marriage is greatly a loss to us!
BrideWould that the music ceased and the night drew round us,With solitude, shadow, and sound of closing doors,So that our lips might meet and our beings mingle,While mine drank deep of the essence, beloved, of yours.
Passing mendicantOut of the joy of your marriage feast,Oh, brothers, be good to me.The way is long and the Shrine is far,Where my weary feet would be.
And feasting is always somewhat sadTo those outside the door—Still; Love is only a dream, and LifeItself is hardly more!
To the Unattainable:
Lament of Mahomed Akram
I would have taken Golden Stars from the sky for your necklace,I would have shaken rose-leaves for your rest from all the rose-trees.
But you had no need; the short sweet grass sufficed for your slumber,And you took no heed of such trifles as gold or a necklace.
There is an hour, at twilight, too heavy with memory.There is a flower that I fear, for your hair had its fragrance.
I would have squandered Youth for you, and its hope and its promise,Before you wandered, careless, away from my useless passion.
But what is the use of my speech, since I know of no words to recall you?I am praying that Time may teach, you, your Cruelty, me, Forgetfulness.