what pleasures could we need?
whose The Empress we served?
where real joys our soul mates were?
with the love of beloved children
we'll decorate the most splendid sun
we'll recite the divine magnetic verses
our wishes are heavy with many sparkles
like ripe moon bearing down the crystal lake
that flies across to Greenland, and sings aloud
Ahmad Shiddiqi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-conference-of-the-nightingales/
