Book in this metre
This page shows only poems in the metre مفاعیلن مفاعیلن مفاعیلن مفاعیلن (هزج مثمن سالم).
Ho! O Saki, pass around and offer the bowl: For love at first appeared easy, but difficulties have occurred.
If that Bold One of Shiraz gain our heart, For His dark mole, I will give Samarkand and Bukhara.
Ever intoxicated keepeth me the waft of air of the tress-curl of Thine. Momently ruined maketh me the deceit of the eye of sorcery of Thine.
Plant the tree of friendship, that, to fruit, the heart’s desire bringeth: Up-pluck the bush of enmity, that countless troubles bringeth.
I have an idol that, the canopy of the hyacinth around the rose hath: A line in the blood of the Arghavan, the spring of his cheek hath.
Every one, who, his heart collected and the beloved acceptable hath, Happiness became his fellow-companion; and fortune, his fellow-sitter, he hath.
At morning time, a perfume from the Beloved’s tress, the breeze brought: Into action, our heart distraught for Thee brought.
Save the love of those moon of face, a path my heart taketh not: To it, in every way, I give counsel; but it kindleth not.
A world altogether, to pass life a single moment in grief is not worth: For wine, sell our ragged religious garment; for more than this it is not worth.
In the morning when, his standard on the mountainous lands, the Khosro of the east pitched, With the hand of mercy, the door of hopeful ones, my beloved beat;
As for me, out of my head, love for those dark of eye will not go: This is the sky’s decree; and other way, it will not be.
Those of lily perfume cause grief’s dust to sit when they sit: Patience from the heart, those of Angel-face take when they strive.