Abounader Manuchehri. (№ 344103)

The inhabitant of the tent, it's time to viucit tent
After all, the head of the caravan had rolled up his rug,
The drum thundered, and the camels stand up,
And drovers extinguish unwanted fire.
Close the time of prayer, and the sun with the moon
At the same height notices my look.
But the moon rises, the sun bends down,
Behind a ridge of Babylon hiding the mountains.
And differ the scales of gold,
Allowed light and darkness dispute.
I didn't on my silver spruce,
So soon darkened the celestial expanse.
The sun path will not interrupt in the blue top.
But suddenly we have to interrupt the conversation.
About beauty moving time-cunning,
All desires contrary to love,
And now born of separation, longing
Matured in the womb of fate since the dawn of time.
Saw my favorite mountain,
And eyelashes wearing pearl headdress,
And approached me, dropping to the ground, -
Like a wounded bird I hand stretched out.
Wrapped her arms around my neck,
And cheeks with her tender tears I wiped.
I said, "O evil oppressor, I swear
You, as a foe in the brutal decisions soon!
I believe that the caravans will come back,
But if you're coming back, heart stole a thief?
You all deserve my admiration,
But in love you deserve only the bitter reproach!"