P
Ah, as each day this bright world grows more fair,
How can I part, and leave its radiant air?
From friends and comrades, earth that strives, sky that bends—
How can I break away from such dear friends?
Turn not to dewdrops of a springtime dawn,
O heart, like the sun keep shining on!
When in the azure skirts of heaven’s height
The struggle carries on—how can I take flight?
See—like the breaking glow of morning skies,
Like comrades gathering where the front line lies,
Like silver faintly gleaming from afar,
How can I part from deserts pale as star?
Nature is wealthy, yet nature is mean,
Use it well, O engineer, keen!
And I, to rocks and stones gave this deep sense—
How can I leave such tender eloquence?
On one side falcons, misty mountain air,
On one side partridges, bright streams fair,
On one side nightingales in gardens gay—
How can I turn from such a grand display?
From life they call this struggle, hard, immense,
From fire that burns in blood and heart intense,
From night and day, from moon and sun’s bright ray,
From boundless skies—how can I turn away?
Before me rolls a stormy, surging sea,
A bitter tempest shakes its depths endlessly,
Its foaming crests turn flowers, white and grand—
How can I part from dream and verse so planned?
The stars—they are the torches of my thought,
The clouds—the caravans my visions brought,
The sky—the nesting place where feelings stay—
How can I turn from such a sky away?
My gentle love appeared before my sight,
Again my poet’s soul was struck outright,
My mad heart asked me, trembling with demand:
—How can I turn from Leyla’s flowing strand?
Though autumn’s sorrow makes the rose-tree sigh,
Though nightingales beneath its shadow cry,
“Life, life!”—my heart still beats with wild desire—
How can I part from love, from heart’s own fire?
You drank your portion from new feelings deep,
O my young pen, from harvest do not sleep!
Tell me, O friends, with truth, with open hand—
How can I part from nature’s lavish stand?
