Ostad Mahmoud Farshchian
Tomorrow's day - alas! - is hidden from our eyes!
Hurry to use the hour that's flying into the abyss.
Drink, moonlight! How often will the month be?
Go to heaven, no longer seeing us.
As long as you reproach us, you're a bad hypocrite,
For the fact that we burn love to the tavern to the tavern?
We are pleased with the wine and sweet, and you
Entangled in beads and lies hypocritically.
In one hand flowers, in the other - the glass is permanent,
Eat with your beloved, forgetting about the whole universe,
As long as the death of a tornado suddenly breaks from you,
As from the rose petals, the life shirt is frail.
I went out into the garden in sorrow and I'm not happy in the morning,
Rose sang a nightingale in a mysterious harmony:
"Show yourself from the bud, rejoice in the morning,
How many wonderful flowers this garden has given! "
Get up from sleep! Night for the mysteries of love is created,
To throw at the house of your beloved dana!
Where there are doors - they lock themselves for the night,
Only the door for lovers - it is open!
You in the road of love do not drive a horse -
You will be exhausted by the end of the day.
Do not swear on the one who is tortured by love, -
You can not comprehend the heat of someone else's fire.
Says my soul - in love with his face,
The sound of his speeches penetrated into the very heart.
Pearls of mystery fill my heart and soul,
But I can not say - my language is nailed!
Woe to the heart, which ice is colder,
He does not burn with love, he does not know about her.
And for the heart of a lover, a day spent
Without a beloved, - the most lost of days!
Let me touch, beloved, strands of thick,
This is a miracle of dreams for me ...
Your curls will be compared only with the heart in love,
So soft and so trembling are their curls!
I thought that your promises were true,
Constancy is full of your promises.
No, I did not know that, like the pillars of the universe -
Light of the eyes! - Your promises are fragile!
Give me a jug of wine and a cup, oh, my love,
Let's sit in the meadow with you and on the bank of a stream!
The sky is a lot of beauties, from the beginning of life,
Turned, my friend, into bowls and pitchers - I know.
eleven
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