Lyrics from "Told in the Gate"

Sweetheart, thy lips are touched with flame,
Sweetheart, thy glowing ardor tame;
Sweetheart, thy love how can I blame,
When I, too, feel its fire,
When all thy fond desire,
Sweetheart, I know the same.

Sweetheart, thine eyes like rubies glow;
Sweetheart, no more regard me so;
Sweetheart, I cannot chide thee though
Since my looks too are burning,
Since I, too, throb with yearning;
Sweetheart, thy pangs I know.

Sweetheart, thy blood leaps in thy cheek.
Sweetheart, thy very heart throbs speak;
Sweetheart, to chide I am too weak,
My heart, so hotly beating,
Is still thy name repeating;
Sweetheart, to still it seek!

Sings the nightingale to the rose:
Without thy love I die!
Sweetheart, regard my cry!
Sings the fountain, as it flows:
O lily, comfort give,
sweetheart, for thee I live!
O sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart dear,
I love thee and I wait thee here.

Sings the cyclamen to the bee:
In love alone is rest;
sweetheart, come to my breast!
Sings the moon on high to the sea:
I shine for thee alone,
sweetheart, I am thine own!
O sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart dear,
I love thee and I wait thee here.

The rose leans over the pool;
Oh touch me not, touch me not, love!
When the sun bursts above her,
the rude bee will love her;
oh touch me not, touch me not, love!

When the night breeze is cool;
Oh kiss me not, kiss me not, love!
With song that pursues her,
the nightingale woos her;
Oh touch me not, kiss me not, love!

The moth to the jasmine flies;
Oh touch me not, touch me not, love!
Drunk with fervid desire,
with love's passionate fire;
Oh touch me not, touch me not, love!

In her bosom he lies;
Oh kiss me not, kiss me not, love!
Till smothered in kisses,
he dies of love's blisses;
Oh touch me not, kiss me not, love!

Love's like a summer rose,
whose fragrant buds unclose,
but ah, how soon it goes,
fading and wasting!
Fallen its petals lie
quickly to fade and die;
thus do love's pleasures fly,
lost in the tasting.

Yet as new roses blow
as fresher fountains flow,
so will new raptures glow,
new joys delight thee;
Lips, that entreating press,
arms, warm in soft caress,
bosoms of loveliness
to bliss invite thee.

Is not the new love fair?
Why for the old despair?
As song dies on the air,
so love is fleeting.
Why then the past regret?
Pleasure remaineth yet;
love only and forget
memory's entreating.

As in waves without number the sea
beats still in immortal unrest;
so ever with yearning for thee
the swelling heart throbs in my breast.

As the moon keeps ist course all unmoved,
however the ocean may sway,
so thou, with thy heart all unproved,
goest calm on thy beauteous way.

O thou moon of desire, on me
with kindlier glance look down;
draw me up like a flame unto thee,
let my soul in thy radiance drown!

Dear love, when in thine arms I lie
and feel thy faithful heart
throbbing with love which cannot die,
and know how true thou art.
Ah, why unbidden to mine eyes
should foolish teardrops thronging rise?
Why should I weep?

Dear love, thy kiss falls on my mouth,
thine arms hold me again;
I drink thy looks, as earth in drouth
drinks drops of welcome rain.
Once more, upon thine ardent breast
my glowing cheeks are hidden pressed,
and yet I weep.

When thou art gone, and I am lone,
bereft of life in thee,
when all this joy, which we have known,
lost in the past shall be;
then, when undone by sorrow's ache
in death my heart shall refuge take,
I shall not weep.

Was I not thine when Allah spoke the word
  Which formed from earth the sky?
Were not our twin hearts one when heaven heard
  The first faint stars reply?

Canst thou then doubt that while the ages roll
  Our being one shall be?
As flame and light are one, so is my soul
  One, O my love, with thee!

The ebbing star-floods of the Judgment Day
  Shall leave my heart still thine;
And Paradise itself shall fade away
  Ere I thy love resign!

In mead, where roses bloom,
I saw a withered rose.
"Ah," sighed I, "how has doom 
struck thee, as love's fierce woes
have blighted my sad heart,
faint with their bitter smart."

"I dreamed," the rose replied,
"my nightingale was near;
morn waked me, and denied
that dream's beguilement dear.
Bereft and lone, I die,
since love no more is nigh."

"Alas, poor rose," I wept,
"Thy lot and mine are one.
Joy found me, where I slept,
but fled, when sleep was done.
Why could not morn delay
until the judgment day?"

Sister fairest, why art thou sighing?
"Dear one, a ring was on my hand;
now in the sea's cold deep 'tis lying,
no diver brings it back to land."

Sister sweetest, why art thou weeping?
"Dear one, a rose bloomed on my tree;
some cruel hand, while I was sleeping,
hath reft my rose away from me."

Sister saddest, why art thou pining?
"Dear one, I had a lover true;
death smote him in my arms reclining.
and I for death am pining too!"

Oh, let the night speak of me, for day 
  Knows not how breaks with woe my heart;
Day knows not how I mournful stray,
  Weeping for thee, so dear thou art. 

The sad night weeps with me, and lays 
  Her tear-wet cheek against my own;
Although I walk in sun-lit ways,
  Still doth my heart in darkness moan. 

The night shall speak of me, and say 
  All things to thee I dare not show;
And to thy dreams my love display,
  Till thou art melted by my woe!

I said to the wind of the south:
"O gentle southwind, blow!
Bear kisses to his mouth
and greet him from me so!"
The gentle southwind blew
with softly mournful sound;
o'er hill and dale it blew,
but my love it never found.
O love, dear love, so long away,
while I am lone, where dost thou stray?

I said to the wind of the west:
"O sweetest westwind, make haste
and waken in his breast
longing, my lips to taste."
The westwind swiftly sped
with sobbing mournful sound;
ah, thou canst not be dead,
then why art thou not found?
O love, dear love, so long away,
come, for I die if you delay!

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