Song of the Restless Stream

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The world its Ramadan will end,

     The lover's Id,

The feast of love, O call him, friend!

     For love is Id.


But love has melted me like snow,

     A waterfall,

As restless as the summer streams

     I sleepless go !


O, call him gently, friend, O call !

     With wreaths and dreams

I carry wine to Dara's peaks'

    The world below.


And yet he roams in distant vales,

     New wine he seeks !

If he comes not, the jasmine pales,

     And I, and all !



Kashmir, 1554-1609