English version by Raficq Abdulla Original Language Persian/Farsi The nightingale raises his head, drugged with passion, Pouring the oil of earthly love in such a fashion That the other birds shaded with his song, grow mute. The leaping mysteries of his melodies are acute. 'I know the secrets of Love, I am their piper,' He sings, 'I seek a David with broken heart to decipher Their plaintive barbs, I inspire the yearning flute, The daemon of the plucked conversation of the lute. The roses are dissolved into fragrance by my song, Hearts are torn with its sobbing tone, broken along The fault lines of longing filled with desire's wrong. My music is like the sky's black ocean, I steal The listener's reason, the world becomes the seal Of dreams for chosen lovers, where only the rose Is certain. I cannot go further, I am lame, and expose My anchored soul to the divine Way. My love for the rose is sufficient, I shall stay In the vicinity of its petalled image, I need No more, it blooms for me the rose, my seed. The hoopoe replies: 'You love the rose without thought. Nightingale, your foolish song is caught By the rose's thorns, it is a passing thing. Velvet petal, perfume's repose bring You pleasure, yes, but sorrow too For the rose's beauty is shallow: few Escape winter's frost. To seek the Way Release yourself from this love that lasts a day. The bud nurtures its own demise as day nurtures night. Groom yourself, pluck the deadly rose from your sight. [1490.jpg] -- from The Conference of the Birds: The Selected Sufi Poetry of Farid ud-Din Attar, Translated by Raficq Abdulla <
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