Cafes In Damascus Poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Cafes In Damascus
LANGUIDLY the night-wind bloweth
From the gardens round,
Where the clear Barrada floweth
With a lulling sound.
Not the lute-note's sweet shiver
Can such music find,
As is on a wandering river,
On a wandering wind.
There the Moslem leaneth, dreaming
O'er the inward world,
While around the fragrant steaming
Of the smoke is curled.
Rising from the coffee berry,
Dark grape of the South;
Or the pipe of polished cherry,
With its amber mouth.
Cooled by passing through the water,
Gurgling as it flows—
Scented by the Summer's daughter,
June's impassioned rose.
By that rose's spirit haunted
Are the dreams that rise,
Of far lands, and lives enchanted,
And of deep black eyes.
Thus with some sweet dream's assistance,
Float they down life's stream;
Would to heaven our whole existence
Could be such a dream!
This poem has the preface: “And Mahomet turned aside, and would not enter the fair city: ' It is, ' said he, ' too delicious.' Miss Landon adds the comment: The Cafés are perhaps the greatest luxury that a stranger can find in Damascus. Gardens, kiosques, fountains, and groves are abundant around every Eastern capital; but Cafés on the very bosom of a rapid river, and bathed by its waves, are peculiar to this ancient city: they are formed so as to exclude the rays of the sun while they admit the breeze. Would that the city were just so today.
By that rose's spirit haunted Are the dreams that rise, Of far lands, and lives enchanted, And of deep black eyes. simply beautiful and very poetic. tony
Simply awesome poem and a pleasure to read and ponder over. Thanks for posting here as Poem of the Day.
Enjoyed the poem thoroughly. From first line to last it is wonderful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/3/2024 7:02:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
i like the lasr stanza of this poem. beautiful write