صنف کے تحت کتاب
یہ صفحہ صرف صنفِ قصیده کے تحت آنے والی نظمیں دکھاتا ہے۔
O gardener, gardener, autumn has come, autumn has come; see on branch and leaf the mark, see the mark of heart-anguish.
Whither would you fly from my clutch? Who knows how to rend the net of omnipotence?
My darling came to me; through him my roof and door sprang to life.
Once more our [crescent] moon has reaped a harvest, and we have paraded forth despite the foe.
Passion for that Beloved brought me out of learning and reciting so that I became mad and distracted.
The garden is here, springtime, and the tall cypress—we will not go back from these surroundings.