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Denis Bezmelnitsin

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Crying Song of the Moon

طَارَحْتُها ثُكَلاً بِفَقدِ وَحيدِها
والثُّكْلُ من فَقدِ الوَحيدِ يَكونُ

I replied, for she had lost her only child,
And 'tis indeed a loss - her only one to be deprived.
Ibn 'Arabi

At eve, when lisp the leaves of aspen trees,
As if from slightest breath of wraith,
Who strolls in dalliance amidst
The trees apparelled in the shade;
The nightingale awakes at song
Of sullen moon in love, who chants
The silvery strains until the morn.
And minstrel-bird inspired, thus
Begins her sweet romance.
And aspen trees, their snake-like trunks
Interlace, embrace and dance,
Encompassed by tide of night,
Tide of love and falling stars.
Only moon in solitude doth shine,
And grieve among the clouds;
The dew of morning is her tears,
Which drip all night and wet the ground.
O lover, open heart and hear
Her crying song, don't let her drown
Brokenhearted in the waves
Of the bottomless dim night;
Turn to her, respond, and save
Her - your immortal soul divine,
Who calleth thee within thy heart,
Who calleth thee in loneliness,
Unroll the scroll, return to God.

Gently wave the pensive trees
Underneath the sea of sky,
They sank away in minstrelsy
Of inspired bird of night...
Take this strain, and drink, and drain
Chalice of this wine.

February 2017

Ibn'Arabi, The Interpreter of Desires
ترجمان الأشواق

Translation from Arabic
by Denis Bezmelnitsin