A crime of verse—I suffer for its flame,Its echo spread—who wrought it, who to blame?
I fell in love with the impossible—ah,Whence blows the wind of what none can forestall?
I nourished hearts with poetry and prose,Yet found no equal in the love they chose;
Why? For I love fidelity alone,And loyalty's phantom passed and hid its throne;
Life's lesson was my spirit's daily bread,The noblest hopes my heart's own fountain fed;
I knelt before my Lord and rose to pray,As pious souls who loved had done before;
When long my supplication rose on high,And when I asked, the answer drew nigh;
I knew God chose me for a sacred part,And turned from me false passion's lying art;
Content with gardens rich beyond compare,I sing like bird confined in cage's care;
Why should I yearn for fellowship's embrace,Wherein deceit provokes discord and chase?
Blessed be my Lord—He made my life a fight,Despite the weary labour of the night;
A crime of verse—I suffer for its flame,Its echo spread—who wrought it, who to blame?
The heart became a spring of tenderness,It closed my door—where flows the outlet, less?
Between myself and men there is a war,However long my reason holds the door;
As though life were a worm, a creeping foe,I seek for peace and harvest only woe;
The heart wept sorrow—they thought it sang,This verse the anguish of the lover's pang;
God lit the pathways of my heart anew,It came to scorn the slaves of gold's pursue;
They wished my pen concealed in misty shroud,To quench affliction and to hide the proud;
As though the cloud were clearness's own kin,And heaven's rain the blessing hoped within;
I fashioned speech into a form most fair,It circles in my mind like meteor's glare;
It shines and gleams like lightning in the sky,On horizon hiding storm-warnings thereby;
How many hearts desired my heart's own flame,But when I refused, they passed without claim;
It was my duty to shut fast my door,And "Jalal" the beloved is enough—and more;
Jalal my child, Jalal my love, my friend,I see him as my light when sorrows bend;
A crime of verse—I suffer for its flame,Its echo spread—who wrought it, who to blame?
Behold the press, subject to reckoning,That grants success to those who profit bring;
A fool, invited, ignorant, base-born,Who masters arts of falsehood to adorn;
And in the press's name amasses gold,Forbidden wealth without fatigue or hold;
He violates the sanctity of right,With none to guard the bounds of honest light;
There spies prowl through the dwellings of the land,And words are heard that stir astonishment;
My father's spirit scorns the path of wrong,Refusing combat in the mart of song;
A clever mind that trains the intellect,And many a scholar claims its fond respect;
A pious heart that offers up its prayer,Devotion's prayer, obligatory and fair;
Behold the ranks of struggle call aloud,Is there a beam to light the people's crowd?
The void of minds, youth's recklessness and play,Are arrows striking Arab youth today;
As though life were a pasture calling allTo frolic—summoning the players' call;
How shall I hide mankind's perversity,And veil my tears behind festivity?!!
A crime of verse—I suffer for its flame,Its echo spread—who wrought it, who to blame?
What is it to me to sell men's minds away,When I would ransom them with gold each day?
This foreign intruder, conscience in his chain,Bargains aloud for what he stole with pain;
He lives unlike a monk within his cell,There dwelling, intimate with books as well;
Behold him prisoner of the heights at whiles,And soaring over clouds with lofty smiles;
He wished to fight the heart's inclining tide,He strayed and lost the pathway of his pride;
Be gentle, my beloved—my pen roams freeThrough realms of feeling, though the veil there be;
I've grown impatient with this life of mine,What outlet have I save my verse's shrine?
We watered her with tears from weeping eyes,And from her spring the men of letters rise;
Behold my heart—within it flows the springOf love and kindness—will it outlet bring?
He lives out there, afar, in distant land,Chaste in his passion, pledged to God's command;
The heart grew rich in tenderness and grace,And we live on, fulfilling every chase.
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