The scent of flowers and the song of birds arise,
It is the season of joy and the time for open skies.

Autumn’s steward scatters leaves on the ground,
While the breeze’s artist decorates the meadow all around.

We care not for gardens or blooming retreats,
Wherever you are, that place feels complete.

They say gazing upon beauty is forbidden,
But not this gaze, where no sin is hidden.

In your face lies the divine artistry untold,
As clear as water in glass does unfold.

I would blind my wandering, envious eye,
So it sees only truth where you lie.

Any heart untouched by love for you,
Is harder than stone—unyielding, too.

One day, the wet and dry within me shall burn,
From the fire that boils beneath passion’s churn.

They say Saadi’s endless lament is unwise,
But they know not the depth where our pain lies.

The one who rests calmly by the shore,
Cannot fathom the stormy sea at its core.