The Rose and the Nightingale - (UG)
Created | Updated Oct 12, 2005
One lovely evening in Allah's garden
A small bird sat alone,
With seeds of discord sown;
He would offer the blooms no serenade,
Disdainfully he viewed the games they played
With scent and hue - their joyful abandon.
He thought love a ridiculous burden.
But this evening was filled with enchantment -
A new queen had been crowned,
A rose of great renown
Whose velvety petals of purest white
Drove the haughty bird to jubilant flight;
And the song that had been so long unspent
Reached Allah's ears - melodic sacrament.
Among her soft petals with wings outspread
His love he did confess,
With song and sweet caress;
Yet in the joy of his recovered grace
A thorn pierced his heart - oh bitter embrace!
The garden fell silent, the bird was dead;
And the queen was crimson where he had bled.
Thousands of sighs toward heaven did sail,
The sad wistful refrain
Of tragic loss and pain;
So fleeting the joy - so deep the regret,
That Allah decreed, lest none would forget -
When a red rose is cut you first hear a wail,
Then the bittersweet song of the nightingale.
