A moon? Or is he my beloved child,
Fragrance? Or is he branch with blossoms wild?
A smile wherein the ailing find their cure,
A light that longing hearts had longed to lure.
My passion for the infant—passion deep
As mothers feel when love would never sleep.
My day when he is far—a burning fire;
My night with him—desire upon desire.
From him my life drew all its living breath,
And here my southern dreams preserve from death.
The Child
Jalal, approach the world with noble mien,
That our remembrance may as fragrance gleam.
Beneath our shade continue thou to live,
Communing with the greater Paradise.
Jalal, fulfil the dreams that shine above—
Fear not the harm that days may bring, my love.
My love is radiant, blessing all it sees,
A talisman to guard the passing years.
Jalal, thy covenant and mine remain;
Come, let us plant affection's golden grain.
For people's love and kindness are the creed
Whose banner drives all sorrow from our need.
Shall I not meet thee in my neighbourhood,
Messenger of compassion and of good?
Thou dost dispel the causes of my grief,
And keep me far from evil's base belief.
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