Dastagh

Late last night the dog was speaking of you;
The snipe was speaking of you in her marsh.
You are the lonely bird throughout the woods;
You live without mate until you find me.

You promised me and yet you lied to me,
You would still be there where the sheep are flocked.
I whistled and I gave three hundred cries;
And I found nothing there but fleeting lamb.

You promised me things that were hard for you,
A ship of gold under a silver mast;
Twelve towns and a market in all of them,
A fine white court by the side of the sea.

And you promised me things not possible;
You would give me gloves the skin of a fish;
You would give me shoes the skin of a bird,
A suit of the dearest silk in Damasq.

Your mother told you not to talk with me,
Not today, tomorrow or on Sunday.
She chose a bad time for telling you that,
She shut the door after the house was robbed...

You have taken the east away from me,
You have taken the west away from me,
Taken what is before and behind me;
You have taken the moon, taken the sun,
And my fear is great you have taken God.