Songs of the East IV: Songs of Persia

Drink and drown thy sorrow,
Drink the foaming wine.
Never fear the morrow,
This bright hour is thine.
All thy kingly treasure
In the goblet drown.
One full draught of pleasure
Is well worth a crown.

Samarkand, Bûkhara,
Hafiz does not seek,
Counts the mole the fairer,
Set on beauty's cheek.
But he'd sell that sweetness,
Love or Life in fine,
To drink in rich completeness
One draught of Shiraz wine!

Dawn’s dim, shadows are dying
Into the day; 
And ever onward and upward,
We wend our way.
Mithra the mighty is shaking
His wings unfurled,
As he looks in gleaming splendor
Over the world.
On the peak of the Ghebers’ mountain 
Flashes his light.
Swiftly we kindle the altar,
High on the height.
Gifts to the Sun-god bringing 
Fragrance and Flame.
Mithra the cloud-compeller,
Mighty his name!

Der Morgen dämmert, die Schatten 
flieh’n vor dem Licht;
wir schreiten rastlos und wandern
den Pfad der Pflicht.
Mithra, der Mächt’ge,
die Flügel gespannt erhält,
wenn er sieht im Strahlenglanze
hin auf die Welt. 
Von dem Gipfel des Sonnenberges 
leuchte sein Strahl,
glänze der Schein seines Altars
weit hin ins Thal.
Lodernde Flammenopfer 
sein dargebracht
Mithra, dem Gott der Sonne,
gross an Macht!

In the lair of the whirling winds alone
The Simurgh dwells by the demon stone,
Higher than boldest bird can soar,
On the peak of the mountain white and hoar.
In the lair of the whirling winds alone,
The Simurgh dwells by the demon stone.
His wings never tire, his eyes never sleep;
He flies o’er the height, he broods o’er the deep.
No spear can slay him, no kamund bind;
As swift as an arrow, he winnows the wind.
In ice-green caverns his treasures lie,
In the heart of the steep, unseen by the sky.
Never shall mortal their splendor behold,
For the Simurgh guards them thro’ ages untold.
Wonder and wisdom, power and might,
All the earth and the heaven are his in his flight.
The heroes shall seek him to learn of his lore,
And the demons shall fear him for evermore.

In der Heimath der wirbelnden Stürme allein
der Simurg wohnt am Dämonenstein,
höher als kühn der Vogel fliegt,
auf dem Gipfel, von Eis und Schnee gefügt.
In der Heimath der wirbelnden Stürme allein
der Simurg wohnt am Dämonenstein,
Sein Auge nie müd; die Schwingen nie matt,
so lebt er und schwebt an grausiger Statt.
Kein Zauber bindet, kein Speer ihn schlägt,
wenn pfeilschnell dahin der Sturmwind ihn trägt.
In Eiseshölen, dem Tag unbekannt, 
die Schätze er sammelt und häuft unverwandt.
Kein sterblich Auge soll schau’n ihre Pracht,
die der Simurg seit Ewigkeiten bewacht.
Wunder und Weisheit, Himmel und Erd’ 
sind sein, wenn im Fluge sein Reich er durchfährt.
Der Held ihm gleiche an Macht im Streit,
die Dämonen ihn fürchten in Ewigkeit.

Ah! the life, the light, the jewel, Nourmahal!
On the carpet idly lying,
She is singing, she is sighing;
Cool the shadows, sweet to dream,
Safe within the still Harem.

Ah! the life, the light, the jewel, Nourmahal!
On the carpet footsteps creeping,
Where the lovely one lies sleeping,
Soft her bosom's fall and rise,
Swift the flash of jealous eyes.

Ah! the life, the light, the jewel, Nourmahal!
On the carpet crimson glowing,
Deeper stains the red blood flowing;
dreary falls the moon's cold gleam,
In the still, the still Harem.

In the garden of the roses
Evening shadows fast are falling,
And from Mihrab’s lovely bower
Longing leans the dark-eyed maiden,
Like the moon in silv’ry brightness.
There to breathe the cool of evening 
Strays the chief with hair like star-beams,
Zal, the nursling of the Simurgh.
Bird of wonder, bird of power,
In the trackless mountain dwelling.
Soft and sweet the maiden’s singing
And his heart went quickly from him.
Glowed her cheek like tulip flower,
Long and dark her scented tresses,
Like the sea-waves rippling, flowing.
Longing, leaning, down she cast them,
Bound them fast, and bound them surely,
By the fragrant coil ascending,
Light he sprang beneath her casement, 
Reached the bower, and kissed the maiden.

In dem stillen Rosengarten
schon die Abendschatten sinken,
sehnend lehnt an seinem Fenster
dort mit dunklem Aug’ das Mädchen,
schön wie Mondes Silberklarheit.
Dort, die Abendkühl’ zu athmen,
streift der Held, der kühne Sieger,
Zal, des mächt’gen Simurg Liebling,
jenes wunderreichen Vogels,
der da wohnt auf rauhem Berge.
Süss und lieblich singt das Mädchen;
seine Heldenbrust erbebet.
Glühend ihre Wang’ gleich Tulpen,
lang und dunkel die Gewänder
wallen hin wie Meereswogen.
Sehnend, bebend wirft sie nieder
der Gewänder duft’ge Fülle,
bindet fest sie, bindet sicher;
leicht schwingt er sich auf zum Fenster,
springt hinein und küsst das Mädchen

(He sings)
What shall I give thee, my beautiful one,
A moonwhite pearl for thy golden zone?
From a thousand fathoms of deep green sea
A diver brought this rare pearl to me!

(She sings)
Nay, nay, my lover thy rich gems keep,
For I have dived in a mightier deep.
I looked in thine eyes, and thy soul I won,
And my pearl is love, and love alone.

(He sings)
Then a rose I'll give thee, my fairest one!
Which the odorous South has breathed upon,
From the Shah's most treasured, best guarded tree
Boldly I stole it, this rose for thee.

(She sings)
Nay, the loveliest flower from east or west,
Is breathing, is blooming on my breast,
From thine I plucked it, to keep for my own,
And my rose is love, and love alone.