by Farid ud-Din Attar
English version by Raficq Abdulla
Ah, the Simurgh, who is this wondrous being
Who, one fated night, when time stood still,
Flew over China, not a single soul seeing?
A feather fell from this King, his beauty and his will,
And all hearts touched by it were in tumult thrown.
Everyone who could, traced from it a liminal form;
All who saw the still glowing lines were blown
By longing like trees on a shore bent by storm.