Classic Poem

I am not the first one infatuated with the glorious maiden, for she is the dream of all mankind.
I searched for her in the folds of dawn and darkness, I stretched my hands out even to the stars.

I was told, “Be pious, for she evades all but the pious ascetic.”
So I buried my joys, divorced my desires, and silenced all signs of passion in my heart.
I smashed my flask before I was quenched, and refrained from eating when I was still hungry.
I thought I was approaching her speedily, but found that I had approached only my ruin.
Like a garden denying itself its wealth of flora
To feel the sunlight in its soil and meet the breeze unmasked,
Only to find autumn creeping on it like night pitching a tent over a wasteland;
I was like a bird that stripped itself of its shiny plumage
To become lighter, only to fall to the ground and be attacked by ants.

I lay me down to sleep hoping she was the daughter of dreams; but I woke up mocking those who slept
For the world of slumber was not all joy, fearful things abounded in it.
When I dreamt of her I dreamt of a flower that could not be plucked, and a star that did not rise
On waking I saw nothing around me but my error, my bed, and my room,
For he who drinks of the rivers of his fancy travels life with an insatiable thirst.

Spring passed and she was not in the singing river or the fertile garden.
Winter came and she was not in its weeping clouds or crying thunder.
I glimpsed the flash of lightning and thought she was in it, but she was not there.
Empty-handed, led astray by youth and conniving,
I felt my hopes to find her were dashed, my sturdy moorings cut off.
Sorrow pressed upon my soul, and it tearfully flowed. It was then that I caught a glimpse of her and perceived her in my tears.
I learned, when learning was late, that she whom I had lost was always here with me.