Book in this metre
This page shows only poems in the metre مفتعلن مفتعلن فاعلن (سریع مطوی مکشوف).
Hark, for I am at the door! Open the door; to bar the door is not the sign of good pleasure.
The wheel of heaven, with all its pomp and splendour, circles around God like a mill.
The bird of my heart has again begun to flutter, the parrot of my soul has begun to chew sugar.
Someone said, “Master San¯a’¯ı is dead.” The death of such a master is no small thing.
Ah, what was there in that light-giving candle that it set fire to the heart, and snatched the heart away?