The Ephemeral Garden Poem by Dr Shamim Ali

In ancient Baghdad, by the Tigris' flow,
where minarets pierce heavens high and low,
there lived a merchant's daughter, fair as dawn,
whose beauty bloomed and withered, then was gone.
Ya layl, ya layl, the night wind sings,
all precious things are fleeting things,
the rose, the star, the lover's sigh
ephemeral as clouds that fly.
She walked through markets draped in silk and gold,
where storytellers wove their tales of old,
her anklets chimed like bells in temple halls,
her laughter echoed through the palace walls.
A poet saw her once at twilight's hour,
as fleeting as the desert's rarest flower,
he wrote her name in verses on the sand,
but morning winds erased it from the land.
Ya layl, ya layl, the oud strings cry,
we grasp at shadows passing by,
the moon will fade, the flame will die
ephemeral beneath this sky.
In gardens where the jasmine blooms at night,
where fountains whisper secrets to the light,
they met beneath the date palms, swaying slow,
where nightingales sang songs of long ago.
He gave her pearls from distant Omar's sea,
she gave him roses picked from her own tree,
but pearls grow dull and roses turn to dust,
and even love must bend to time's cruel thrust.
Ya layl, ya layl, the dervish knows,
the caravan comes, the caravan goes,
the incense fades, the candle dims
ephemeral are all our hymns.
The summer passed like water through their hands,
like footprints disappearing in the sands,
like perfume from a censer, sweet then gone,
like darkness fleeing from the breaking dawn.
She married to a prince from distant lands,
with hennaed feet and jewels upon her hands,
the poet watched her caravan depart,
and pressed her dying roses to his heart.
Ya layl, ya layl, the muezzin calls,
what rises high eventually falls,
the empire fades, the kingdom ends
ephemeral are lovers, friends.
Years turned like pages in a weathered book,
the Tigris flowed, the earth and heavens shook,
the poet aged and bent beneath the weight
of memories too beautiful to hate.
One twilight, by the river's edge he stood,
where once they walked through jasmine-scented wood,
and saw her there or was it just a dream?
a phantom dancing on the water's gleam.
Her face was just as lovely as before,
though lined with years that he had not yet bore,
she smiled at him, then vanished like the mist,
ephemeral as that one time they kissed.
Ya layl, ya layl, the Bedouin sings,
we are but dust with borrowed wings,
the desert blooms then dies away
ephemeral as yesterday.
He died that night beside the river's shore,
his verses scattered, read by none no more,
but sometimes when the evening star appears,
they say his ghost still wanders through the years.
Seeking that one ephemeral delight,
that girl who vanished into eastern night,
that moment when the world seemed bright and whole,
before time took its everlasting toll.
Ya layl, ya layl, the ages turn,
we live, we love, we fade, we burn,
all beauty is a passing guest
ephemeral, yet still we're blessed.
In modern Baghdad, lovers still will meet,
in gardens fragrant, bittersweet,
they'll hold each other close beneath the stars,
and carry love's ephemeral scars.
For this is what the ancients always knew,
what makes a thing most precious is it's true
not that it lasts forever, but instead,
that it will bloom once, brilliantly, then shed.
Ya layl, ya layl, so ends the tale,
behind the moon, behind the veil,
all things must pass, all things must fly
ephemeral, and so am I.