Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BRANDING-GROUND by FARRUKHI

First Line: SINCE THE MEADOW HIDES ITS FACE IN SATIN WITH GREENS AND BLUES
Last Line: THOUGH WITH CORDS.
Since the meadow hides its face in satin shot with greens
and blues,
And the mountains wrap their brows in silver veils of
seven hues,
Earth is teeming like the musk-pod with aromas
rich and rare.
Foliage bright as parrot's plumage doth the graceful
willow wear.
Yestere'en the midnight breezes brought the tidings
of the spring:
"Welcome, O ye northern gales, for this glad promise
which ye bring!"
Up its sleeve the wind, meseemeth, pounded musk hath
stored away,
While the garden fills its lap with shining dolls, as
though for play.
On the branches of syringa necklaces of pearls we see,
Ruby ear-rings of Badakhshan sparkle on the Judas-tree.
Since the branches of the rose-bush carmine cups and
beakers bore
Human-like five-fingered hands reach downwards from
the sycamore.
Gardens all chameleon-coated, branches with
chameleon whorls,
Pearly-lustrous pools around us, clouds above us
raining pearls!
On the gleaming plain this coat of many colors
doth appear
Like a robe of honor granted in the Court of
our Amir.
For our Prince's Camp of branding stirreth in these
joyful days,
So that all this age of ours in joyful wonder
stands a-gaze.
Green within the green you see, like stars within
the firmament;
Like a fort within a fortress spreads the army,
tent on tent.
Every tent contains a lover resting in his
sweetheart's arms,
Every patch of grass revealeth to a friend a
favorite's charms.
Harps are sounding amidst the verdure, minstrels
sing their lays divine,
Tents resound with clink of glasses as the pages
pour the wine.
Kisses, claspings from the lovers; coy reproaches
from the fair;
Wine-born slumbers for the sleepers, while the minstrels
wake the air.
Branding-fires, like suns ablaze, are kindled at the
spacious gate
Leading to the state-pavilion of our Prince
so fortunate.
Leap the flames like gleaming lances draped with
yellow-lined brocade,
Hotter than a young man's passion, yellower than
gold assayed.
Branding-irons like coral branches ruby-tinted
glow amain
In the fire, as in the ripe pomegranate glows the
crimson grain.
Rank on rank of active boys, whose watchful eyes no
slumber know;
Steeds which still await the branding, rank on rank
and row on row.
On his horse, the river-forder, roams our genial
Prince afar,
Ready to his hand the lasso, like a young
Isfandiyar.
Like the locks of pretty children see it how it
curls and bends,
Yet be sure its hold is stronger than the
covenant of friends.
Bu 'l-Muzaffar Shah, the Upright, circled by a
noble band,
King and conqueror of cities, brave defender
of the land.
Serpent-coiled in skilful hands his whirling noose
fresh forms doth take,
Like unto the rod of Moses metamorphosed to a snake.
Whosoever hath been captured by that noose and
circling line,
On the face and flank and shoulder ever bears the
Royal sign.
But, though on one side he brandeth, gives he also
rich rewards,
Leads his poets with a bridle, binds his guests as
though with cords.




Home: PoetryExplorer.net