THE MORNING STAR VENUS
Should I abandon the pleasure of sun's and moon's company?
And should I abandon this service of conveying dawn's message 1?
For me the height of the world of stars is not good
For me lowliness of earth's denizens is better than this height
What is the sky? Is the uninhabited homeland of mine
The tattered skirt of the morning is my shroud
My destiny is dying and being born every day
Drinking morning draft of wine from the hand of death's cup-bearer
This service, this honor, this elegance is not good
Darkness is better than this ephemeral illumination
If I had the power, I would have never become a planet
I would have become the shining pearl in the ocean's depth
There also if I would have become weary of the waves' struggle
Leaving the ocean I would have become some neck's decoration2
The pleasure of brightness is in being some beauty's ornament
In being the ornament of the crown of the princess of Caesar3
As the fortune of a piece of stone gained ascendancy
It did not stop short of being jewel of Sulaiman's 4 ring
But breaking is the end of such things in the world
Breaking is the end of the invaluable pearls
Real life is the one which is not acquainted with death
What good is the life in which there is demand of death?
If this is the end of being the decoration of the universe
Why should I not fall as dew on some flower?
I should live as shining specks in the decoration of someone's forehead
I should live in the sparks of some oppressed person's sighs
As tear I be entangled in the eye lashes of someone
Why should I not drip from the eyes of that lady?
Whose husband, clad in the chains armor is departing
To battlefield, compelled by the love of the homeland
Who may be exhibiting hope and despair's spectacle
Whose silence may be putting speech to embarrassment
To whom pleasing the husband may give the strength for patience
And to whose eyes' modesty may give the power to speak
Whose rosy cheeks at departure's time may be turned pale
Attraction of whose beauty by separation's sorrow may be enhanced
However hard she may control but still I may drip
I may spill over from the cup of the tearful eye
After mixing with dust I may get eternal life
And departing, I may show warmth of Love to the world