poems about love

I cannot say a scene is fair
Because it is beloved of thee
But I shall love to linger there,
For sake of thy dear memory;
I would not be so coldly just
As to love only what I must.

I cannot say a thought is good
Because thou foundest joy in it;
Each soul must choose its proper food
Which Nature hath decreed most fit;
But I shall ever deem it so
Because it made thy heart o'erflow.

I love thee for that thou art fair;
And that thy spirit joys in aught
Createth a new beauty there,

I'm your slave, you are my love,
I turn to you, my beloved,
Save me now or let me perish,
Take and choose the best solution,
I lament and am in torment,
Heavy on me lies this planet,
I to perish would prefer
And save myself from love's affliction
Yet in spite of all our anguish,
Will our lovers not address us,
We are slaves in desolation,
Let them fetch us and despatch us.

I'm like all lovers, wanting love to be
A very mighty thing for you and me.
In certain moods your love should be a fire
That burnt your very life up in desire.
The only kind of love then to my mind
Would make you kiss my shadow on the blind
And walk seven miles each night to see it there,
Myself within, serene and unaware.
But you're as bad. You'd have me watch the clock
And count your coming while I mend your sock.
You'd have my mind devoted day and night
To you and care for you and your delight.

I'm like a parrot enmeshed in your love,
O wild mynah, hear the song of my heart !

The god of love, in his crimson robes,
Came to the garden in the shades of dusk,
And fragrance floated from flower beds.

Her curls float down like webs,
Or like a hyacinth bed that entraps a rose,
Or like the king of snakes. And O. how many have fallen !

Won't I offer my eyes to my beloved's feet !
O, those wine cups filled to the brim !
And those brimful drunken eyes !

she's young, she said,
but look at me,
I have pretty ankles,
and look at my wrists, I have pretty
wrists
o my god,
I thought it was all working,
and now it's her again,
every time she phones you go crazy,
you told me it was over
you told me it was finished,
listen, I've lived long enough to become a
good woman,
why do you need a bad woman?
you need to be tortured, don't you?
you think life is rotten if somebody treats you
rotten it all fits,
doesn't it?

I'm going out,
flies, so relax,
make love.


Translated by Robert Hass

I'll rock you in my arms !
O my pearl, do not forsake me.

Your beauty's rising fame
Filled me with a mad longing
To beg at your door.

Just one glance from you
Sent me into love's consuming flames,
Like one tumbling down the skies.

O ravishing moon, don't hide yourself !
I pray some oid job tempts you out,
So that we see your radiant form.

How much like Sheereen or Badwaljamal,
Or a hourie emerging from Paradise,

o


MY dear and only Love, I pray
That little world of thee
Be govern'd by no other sway
Than purest monarchy;
For if confusion have a part
(Which virtuous souls abhor),
And hold a synod in thine heart,
I'll never love thee more.

Like Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone;
My thoughts did evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.
He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
That dares not put it to the touch,

I'll be loving you always
With a love that's true always
When the things you've planned
Need a helping hand

I will understand always
Days may not be fair always
That's when I'll be thee always
Not for just an hour
Not for just a day
Not fr just a year
But always.

Everything went, and the whole day long
I felt so blue
For the longest while I forget to smile,
Then I met you
Now that my blue days have-
Now that I have found you at last.

If you refuse me once, and think again,
I will complain.
You are deceiv'd, love is no work of art,
It must be got and born,
Not made and worn,
By every one that hath a heart.

Or do you think they more than once can die,
Whom you deny?
Who tell you of a thousand deaths a day,
Like the old poets feign
And tell the pain
They met, but in the common way?

Or do you think 't too soon to yield,
And quit the field?
Nor is that right, they yield that first entreat;
Once one may crave for love,