آڈیوز
یہ صفحہ صرف صداکار محمدرضاکاکائی کی دستیاب آڈیوز دکھاتا ہے۔
O breeze! with softness speak to the beautiful fawn, Saying: Thou hast given to us desire for the mountain and the desert.
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I said: “O Sultan of lovely ones! show pity to this poor stranger.” He said: “In the desire of his own heart, loseth his way the wretched stranger.”
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O chaste beloved! Who draweth the fastening of the veil of thee? O bird of Paradise! grain and water, who giveth thee?
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The great curve that, into the bow, thy told eye-brow cast, In design of the blood of me, miserable, powerless, it cast.
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Went heart and faith; and the Heart-Ravisher with reproach arose, And said: “Sit not with me; for, from thee, safety hath risen.”
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From me intoxicated, is the desire of devotion and of covenant, and of rectitude; For, in Eternity without beginning, I became renowned for wine-drinking.
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Tress dishevelled; sweat expressed; lip laughing; intoxicated; Garment rent; song-singing; goblet in His hand;
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Into the Magian’s cloister, came my Friend a goblet in His hand: With wine intoxicated, He with his eye intoxicated the wine-dirnkers.
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By the Khwaja’s soul, and by ancient right, and by true covenant, That, at the breath of dawn, prayer for thy welfare is my companion.
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What men of our closed circle call “the Night of Power” to-night is. O Lord! from what constellation, this effect of fortune is?
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Though wine is joy exciting! and the breeze rose-enslaving, Drink not wine to the sound of the harp. For bold the Muhtaseb is.
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Now that in the palm of the rose, is the cup of pure wine, In it praise, is the nightingale with a hundred thousand tongues.
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Now that in the palm of the rose, is the cup of pure wine, In it praise, is the nightingale with a hundred thousand tongues.
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Since the presentation of skill before the Beloved disrespect, is The tongue, silent; yet, the mouth full of Arabia is.
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Thou sawest that, save the desire of violence and of tyranny, my beloved aught had not. He shattered the covenant; and, on account of our grief, grief had not.
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By concord with darkish beauty, the world Thy beauty took. Yes; by concord, the world one can take.
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I heard a pleasant speech that the old man of Kan’an uttered: “Separation from the true Beloved maketh not that which can be uttered.”
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I heard a pleasant speech that the old man of Kan’an uttered: “Separation from the true Beloved maketh not that which can be uttered.”
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I heard a pleasant speech that the old man of Kan’an uttered: “Separation from the true Beloved maketh not that which can be uttered.”
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O hidden from sight! to God, I entrust, thee. Thou consumedest my soul; yet with heart, friend I hold thee.
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On account of that heart-cherishing beloved, thanks with complaint are mine: If thou be a subtlety-understander of love list well to this tale.
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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.
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The day of union of friends remember: Those times, remember, remember!
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If, to limit, the Sufi drink wine to him, sweet may it be! If not, the thought of this work of his, forgotten be!
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Wonderful harmony and great melody, my minstrel of love hath: Every picture of the hidden that he striketh, path to place hath.
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Without the Beloved’s beauty, inclination for the world, my soul hath not: O God, every one who this hath not, that hath not.
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Into the curve of that doubled tress, the hand one cannot put: Reliance on Thy covenant and the morning breeze, one cannot make.
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Friends! repentance of veiledness, the daughter of the vine made: To the Mohtaseb she went; and by permission the work made.
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Friends! repentance of veiledness, the daughter of the vine made: To the Mohtaseb she went; and by permission the work made.
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At the head of Jamshid’s cup, at that time thy glance, thou canst make, When the dust of the wine-house, the collyrium of thy eye, thou canst make.
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Last night, news to me the messenger of the morning wind brought, Saying: “To shortness, its face, the day of labor and of grief hath brought.”
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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.
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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.
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If the Saki the wine into the cup, in this way cast All the Arefs into ever drinking, He will cast.
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In eternity without beginning, of glory, the splendor-ray of Thy beauty boasted. Revealed became love; and, upon all the world, fire dashed.
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Not all purity without alloy is the coat of the Sufi; O many a Khirka, that is worthy of the fire!
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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.
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Thou wrotest not the account of thy state; and, passed some time: Where a confidant so that to thee, I may send some message?
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For profligacy and love, my censure that foolish one maketh; Who, on the mysteries of men of hidden knowledge, criticism maketh.
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One day, when recollection of us thy musky reed maketh, It will take reward: Two hundred slaves that free, it maketh_
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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.
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Those Mursheds, who, with their glance alchemy of the dust make, At us, eye-cornering, do they make?
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Thou knowest what tale that the harp and the lyre make? Secretly drink ye wine that thee precious they may make.
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Thou knowest what tale that the harp and the lyre make? Secretly drink ye wine that thee precious they may make.
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