The Death of Free Spirits

In the garden of Hafiz’s* tomb, it is said,
A rose, blood red, blooms afresh each day.
At night, until dawn, a nightingale weeps,
Its harmony reminiscent of old Shiraz.

For a free spirit, death is a peaceful land of spring,
Long years, everywhere, his heart like a censer smoulders.
And under the cool cypress trees, on his tomb
Every dawn a rose blooms; every night a nightingale sings.

Yahya Kemal(1884-1958). Rindlerin Ölümü. Translated from the Turkish.

*Hafiz of Shiraz – Poet, sufi from Persia, 14th century.

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