Book in this metre
This page shows only poems in the metre فاعلاتن فاعلاتن فاعلاتن فاعلن (رمل مثمن محذوف).
Last night in sleep I dreamed—yet what sleep is there for lovers?—that I was searching inside the Kaaba for where a prayer-niche might be.
What is this hurricane blowing along from heaven? Hundreds of thousands of ships staggering and reeling before it.
Bird of heart, fly not save in the air of selflessness; candle of soul, shine not save in the palace of selflessness.
You who let a garden go for the sake of a small fig, let slip the houri for the sake of an unworthy crone.
Proclaim, O crier, at the head of every market, “Have you seen, Moslems, a runaway slave?
“Ah, from those lightning-casting, sweet, mischievous cheeks! A thunderbolt from its lightning has fallen on the soul of every helpless one!”
Soul of a hundred rose gardens, you have vanished from jasmine; soul of the soul of my soul, why have you vanished from me?