A picture of Suhrawardi in his youth Abdul Wahab Al-Bayati

A picture of Suhrawardi in his youth Abdul Wahab Al-Bayati
( 1 )
If the sea were ink for words, the poet would shout: Oh! My Lord, the sea has run out and I am still on its shore. The gray on my head and I'm still a boy I haven't started yet, my roaming and my departure If the tents burn with the fire of crawling, the time of fate becomes a veil, I'm around the fire a bed I'm still hovering and I'm dying a sugary night, I contemplate the face of the blue silver moon in the desert of love missing, leaving ashes in lovers' mugs .

I loved you to death, where did your love go? And astonishing! My heart trembles like a paper and asks me: Where did he go? How wild is this desert, we were born in it, we loved it and left, we suffered in it the death of the soul, we carried it like a golden sparkle that this night overcomes, dies. The face of the silver-blue moon in the mirror of the melodies. I contemplate the gray-haired face of lovers on my head. I am still a boy. I have not yet begun my tawaf and my departure in words.

( 2 )

I loved you to death, so where did your love go? Wow! My heart shivered like a paper, asking me: Where did it go? How monstrous is this desert. I crawl into it madly. With words, I look at my face in the mirror and say to him: Here we are, so keep my leaving, so as not to be looted, you sharp-headed.

( 3 )

With the blood of the heart, I wrote and set the words ablaze, but I have not yet begun to set my heart on fire.

( 4 )

Poison runs in my veins, drops of my blood screaming dark and saying I love you or I loved you, I don't know the nose I stumble into the night and die on my mug thirsty The bars of the world know me And the cafes sidewalks of dawn Asean.

( 5 )

You who stopped me between the body stretched like a bow and the looser You who put me in this predicament He broke this boat with the rocks of the shores of the blue night.

( 6 )

I know her those beaches, from them my ancestors sailed to China and returned dazzled by the dragon’s fangs, and from them sea workers took off to fish for pearls in the Indian Sea, and they returned more than they were, poor I know her that watery desert with breasts and she bares her navel to the red sun I know her and I see her every evening When destiny comes with fake jewels and eyes of The pottery of that crimson seduces the bartender, so he betrays and reveals the secret of the martyr of slain love.

( 7 )

He stopped me in the section on prohibitions (including): He said: (The words) (So think about this section) and he disappeared.

( 8 )

Forbidden: Plato, Aristotle, Mutanabbi and Jalal al-Din in this cursed hole.

( 9 )

My head is falling off into the sultan's plate and I haven't started my life's journey yet

From the Diwan of the Kingdom of the Sunbulah

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