1.

A thrush in the syringa sings.

“Hunger ruffles my wings, fear, 
lust familiar things.

Death thrusts hard. My sons

by hawk’s beak, by stones,
trusting weak wings
by cat and weasel, die.

Thunder smothers the sky.

 

From a shaken bush I
list familiar things,
fear, hunger, lust.”

O gay thrush!


2.


Came to me—
         Who?
She.
         When?
In the dawn, afraid.

        What of?
Anger.
        Whose?
Her father’s.
       Confide!

I kissed her twice.
        Where?
On her moist mouth.
        Mouth?

No.
       What, then?
Cornelian.
       How was it?
Sweet!

                (Rudaki, X century)