'O Night of Separation, darkest night'

 

    Wherever the Belovéd looks she stirs
         Trouble and longing sore and eager breath
    And deep desire in all her worshippers,
         And some for her have drunk the cup of Death.

    O Night of Separation, darkest night
         Of deepest grief, thy cruelty shall cease;
    To-morrow I shall greet the dawning light
         Within the city of Eternal Peace.

    O threatening Whirlwind rolling on thy way,
         I shall unloose thy knot, if thou but dare
    With angry gusts to toss and disarray
         A single curl of the Belovéd's hair.

    Sometimes her beauty goads and maddens me,
         I cannot bear her cruel loveliness,
    But turn her mirror that she may not see;
         Why should I let her double my distress?

    Hearken, O Momin, all thy life is done!
         In idol-worship at the Temple thou
    Hast spent thy days, and thus thy years have run:
         How canst thou call thyself a Muslim now?

Momin Khan Momin (1800-1851)

[ agger, Wed 24 May, :13:57: /digte] - kommentar(er) - link

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