The Physician Poem by Al-Mu'tamid ibn Abbad
The Physician
Pale fingers of the drowsy dawn have rent
The garment of the night, and thou, beloved,
Tearest the sad weeds of my discontent
With dawn-tipped fingers.
Wherefore I invent
A medicine from the moisture of thy lips
And from the roses that thy cheeks have lent,
To cure my melancholy.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: lips,sad
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By Al-Mu'tamid ibn Abbad
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/28/2026 10:49:15 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
