The Masnavi of Giti and Saeed - Part 27, 28 and 29

Part Twenty-Seven — Giti Speaks with Her Father and His Reply Sweet Giti, like an idol fair, A thousand hearts caught in her hair. As soft and gentle as the breeze, Her charm could bring strong men to knees. She locked her heart and gave love's key, Sugar-sweet smiles for all to see. She turned and gently told her sire: "O father dear, my heart's desire! A suitor comes with passion strong, Shall I say yes or would that be wrong? This lover seems both wise and true, But will his promises come through?" She spoke, yet love within her grew For the beloved her heart knew. Her father sighed and stroked his beard: "This path brings joy, but pain is feared. I see his virtues and his flaws, In love there are no written laws. But if your heart to union tends, Then on my blessing you depends." Part Twenty-Eight — Giti's Reply to Saeed's Proposal Sweet Giti, crowned with beauty's art, Like Venus, she could steal each heart. The heavens sighed with patient grace, From parting's pain stars hid their face. Her watchful eyes sought out the flame, The lover who would stake his claim. A queen whose glance could break each chain, With one sweet smile end every pain. Her fame like stars would fill the sky, Her grace made silent planets cry. When gentle breeze her message bore, She loosed her hair to winds once more. The face once veiled in modest art Now shone like truth in every heart. She sent her word to him, her flame: "O dearest love of noble name! O peerless friend, why do you stray? Come forth if you're my love, I pray. Now rise, the hour is perfect spun, My heart awaits—let love be done." Part Twenty-Nine — The Sixth Cupbearer's Song O Saqi, bring that sacred wine, A rapture deep, a joy divine! Arise, O bloom in silk arrayed, Bring me the cup for which I've prayed. A goblet filled with purest light, Make haste! For dawn follows the night. My heart has burned from love's delay, I died for just one glance today. Come, wipe the dust of sorrow clean, Let wine like dawn redeem the scene. O minstrel, strike the drum and reed, And sing of kings and noble deed. Strum now beloved, the sweet rebeck, Play that old tune our hearts to deck. Sit close and clear the dust of tears, Let one song shake these weary years. Offer your music, tipsy muse, I'm lost—come now, my bonds unloose. Return to dance with hearts set free, In lovers' peace, where we shall be.