Yasmin_Solace

«And how beguile you? Death has no repose

Warmer and deeper than that Orient sand

Which hides the beauty and bright faith of those

Who made the Golden Journey to Samarkand.

And now they wait and whiten peaceably,

Those conquerors, those poets, those so fair:

They know time comes, not only you and I,

But the whole world shall whiten, here or there;

When those long caravans that cross the plain

With dauntless feet and sound of silver bells

Put forth no more for glory or for gain,

Take no more solace from the palm-girt wells.

When the great markets by the sea shut fast

All that calm Sunday that goes on and on:

When even lovers find their peace at last,

And Earth is but a star, that once had shone.»

 Blume by einstürzende neuebauten

A Ghazel*

How splendid in the morning grows the lily: with what grace he throws
His supplication to the rose: do roses nod the head, Yasmin?


But when the silver dove descends I find the little flower of friends
Whose very name that sweetly ends I say when I have said, Yasmin.


The morning light is clear and cold: I dare not in that light behold
A whiter light, a deeper gold, a glory too far shed, Yasmin.


But when the deep red light of day is level with the lone highway,
And some to Meccah turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin;


Or when the wind beneath the moon in drifting like a soul aswoon,
And harping planets talk love's tune with milky wings outspread, Yasmin,


Shower down thy love, O burning bright! For one night or the other night,
Will come the Gardener in white, and gathered flowers are dead, Yasmin


James Elroy Flecker - Thirty-Six Poems (1910)
*A ghazel is a Middle Eastern or Indian lyric poem with a fixed number of verses and a repeated rhyme.