When I beheld thy blue eyes shine
Through the bright drop that pity dew
I saw beneath those tears of thine
A blue-ey'd violet bathed in dew.
The violet ever scents the gale
It's hues adorn the fairest wreath
But sweetest through a dewy veil
It's colors glow, its odors breathe.
And thus thy charms in brightness rise
When wit and pleasure round thee play
When mirth sit's smiling in thine eyes
Who but admires their sprightly ray?
But when through pity's flood they gleam
Who but must love their softened beam?
By-Ibn al-Rumi
Monday, January 16, 2006
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