The Song of the Reed
Hear, how yon reed in sadly pleasing tales
Departed bliss and present woe bewails!
With me, from native banks untimely torn,
Love-warbling youths and soft-ey'd virgins mourn.
O! Let the heart, by fatal absence rent,
Feel what I sing, and bleed when I lament:
Who roams in exile from his parent bow'r,
Pants to return, and chides each ling'ring hour.
My notes, in circles of the grave and gay,
Have, hail'd the rising, cheer'd the closing day:
Each in my fond affections claim'd a part,
But none discern'd the secret of my heart.
Mehdi Aminian Jazi (Ney & Ornamentation)
Pouyan Kheradmand (Setar & Ornamentation)
Set on Music by Dimitri Arnauts
Rhymed Translation by Jones, 1772
© COPYRIGHT 2020 by Dimitri Arnauts. All rights reserved.