Ahmad Shawqi ((1868–1932))
O' God !
O' God !
I wander all day and pine through time,
And seek some comfort in my rhyme.
The noblest of rhymes overflow with love,
The sweetest line - the musical and pure -
Are written down for the heart as a cure.
Men turn as they pay to the holy place;
To Laila's home I turn my face.
Twice people say their prayers at dawn;
When I think of her'
I know not the times I repeat my own,
Laila hid behind a crowd;
Her lip betrayed a smile,
Like the break of morn,
Or the sun as it shone.
Her sweet breath filled the air,
Made perfumed roses seem less fair.
A shiver ran through my form
From head to toe
As though my eye had met her own.
All men are mortal but love never dies:
Laila and I loved with young eyes:
Our love story which is now alive,
To our successors will continue to survive.
Generations of men will die and go past,
But our true love will forever last.
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