Category Archives: Romantic Poetry

Ottoman Poetry


The following is an old Ottoman poem written by Fuzuli. It dates from the 16th Century.

Beni candan usandırdı cefâdan yâr usanmaz mı
Felekler yandı âhımdan murâdım şem´i yanmaz mı

She made me tired of my life, doesnt my love get tired of her cruelty?

Heavens burned from my sigh, doesnt the candle of my will burn?

Kamu bîmârına cânân deva-yı derd eder ihsan
Niçün kılmaz bana derman beni bîmar sanmaz mı

She gives the cure of trouble to every patient of her

Why doesnt she heal me, doesnt she think that I am a patient too?

Şeb-i hicran yanar cânım döker kan çeşm-i giryânım
Uyarır halkı efgânım kara bahtım uyanmaz mı

My soul burns at the night of seperation, my crying eyes shed tears of blood

My cries make people wake up, doesn´t my bad fortune wake up too?

Gûl-i ruhsârına karşu gözümden kanlu akar su
Habîbim fasl-ı güldür bu akar sular bulanmaz mı

Against your rose like cheek, water fall bloody from my eye

My love, this is season of rose; don´t rivers blur?

Gâmım pinhan tutardım ben dedîler yâre kıl rûşen
Desem ol bî-vefâ bilmem inanır mı inanmaz mı

I was keeping my grief as a secret, they said make it known to the beloved

If I said, I don´t know whether that unfaithful would believe or not.

Değildim ben sana mâil sen ettin aklımı zâil
Beni tan eyleyen gafîl seni görgeç utanmaz mı

I was not interested in you, you made my mind undecided

Wouldn´t that unwary person (who speaks ill of me) be ashamed when he saw you.

Fuzûlî rind-i şeydâdır hemîşe halka rüsvâdır
Sorun kim bu ne sevdâdır bu sevdâdan usanmaz mı

Fuzuli is a crazy bohemian and always shameful in the eyes of folk

Ask what kind of love this is, isnt he sick of it?

Written by Fuzuli


Boo to Buddha by Aleister Crowley


Boo to Buddha

So it is eighteen years,
Helena, since we met!
A season so endears,
Nor you nor I forget
The fresh young faces that once clove
In that most fiery dawn of love.

We wandered to and fro,
Who knew not how to woo,
Those eighteen years ago,
Sweetheart, when I and you
Exchanged high vows in heaven’s sight
That scarce survived a summer’s night.

What scourge smote from the stars
What madness from the moon?
That night we broke the bars
Was quintessential June,
When you and I beneath the trees
Bartered our bold virginities.

Eighteen -years, months, or hours?
Time is a tyrant’s toy!
Eternal are the flowers!
We are but girl and boy
Yet -since love leapt as swift to-night
As it had never left the light!

For fiercer from the South
Still flames your cruel hair,
And Trojan Helen’s mouth
Still not so ripe and rare
As Helena’s -nor love nor youth
So leaps with lust or thrills with truth.

Helena, still we hold
Flesh firmer, still we mix
Black hair with hair as gold.
Life has but served to fix
Our hearts; love lingers on the tongue,
And who loves once is always young.

The stars are still the same;
The changeful moon endures;
Come without fear or shame,
And draw my mouth to yours!
Youth fails, however flesh be fain;
Manhood and womanhood attain.

Life is a string of pearls,
And you the first I strung.
You left -first flower of girls! –
Life lyric on my tongue,
An indefatigable dance,
An inexhaustible romance!

Blush of love’s dawn, bright bud
That bloomed for my delight,
First blossom of my blood,
Burn in that blood to-night!
Helena, Helena, fiercely fresh,
Your flesh flies fervent to my flesh.

What sage can dare impugn
Man’s immortality?
Our godhead swims, immune
From death and destiny.
Ignored the bubble in the flow
Of love eighteen short years ago!

Time -I embrace all time
As my arm rings your waist.
Space -you surpass, sublime,
As, taking me, we taste
Omnipotence, sense slaying sense,
Soul slaying soul, omniscience.

by Aleister Crowley

April 2013

At the Gates of Dawn


Part I in a series of long fairy tale poems I wrote on one of the most captivating figures in folklore.

At the Gates of Dawn

Once upon a time, not too long ago
In a village that sat adjacent to a mountain
Lived a people modest and humble.
Crowded and small, the village was barricaded by a wall.
The stone wall had saved the village many a time
From the travesties of medieval life.
Threats were thwarted from the valiant Teutonic Knights of the Old Order –
Warriors of God, pious beasts that preyed on the flesh of the unholy
A couple of miles west of the village ran the River Weser,
Serving as a natural sentinel of the fortuitous population.
Calamity had not befallen the village until one strange day it grew.
A horde of plague-ridden rats had invaded the village,
Ravaging the food-supply and infecting the once-prosperous villagers with the plague.
Days after the takeover the village had finally given up.
The fright against these tiny monsters proved fruitless.
On the dawn of the first Monday of that fateful October
The Mayor convened an assembly of village elders
Where he called upon the villagers to center the village square.
Here he exclaimed that he was willing to pay half of village’s treasury
In gold and silver to the first man to get rid of the rats,
The pestilent creatures that have brought the peaceful village to the cusp of starvation.
A great deal of villagers had spoken of migration,
Something the wealthy Mayor was not willing to risk.
The sun had set, and no one had yet found a way to help the village.
The following dawn a the village guards heard a knock on the wall.
Ringing the bell tower the Mayor had awoken, along with most of the villagers.
The Mayor climbed the stairs of the wall to see who had knocked so early.
Standing majestically in front of the gate was a young man
Dressed in a pied robe with red and black stockings and a cap with a dangling feather.
In his hands he held a flute.
The Mayor called at him, asking him what he could do for him.
Looking up at the Mayor, the man replies,
“I have come to cleanse this village of plague.
Of course, for the price you had promised.”
Jovial, the Mayor accepted the help of the man and allowed him into the village,
And so entered a Piper at the Gates of Dawn,
Seeking to help the villagers in exchange for gold and silver
The Piper picked up his flute and started playing.

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
April 10, 2013

Pan’s Flute


Pan’s Flute

Come, come with me
To a far away land
Close to the sweet blue sea
Encompassed with white glittery sand
Come to peace, come to joy
Leave your family, leave your home
Enter a life bedazzled by a toy
Perfected with each blow, a smooth tone

Follow me into the hill
Do not fear nature’s wrath
No doom awaits the Piper’s will
A master of the devil’s craft
He seeks to enlighten those with reason
Charming melodies synthesizing the sounds in your mind
Shifting the moods like the changing seasons
The intellect knows no limit in the bounties it may find

Carry on, come along
Open up your ears to the words of my song
I know a way to ease the feeling of pain
Raising you back on your feet once again
Come through the bustling grove
Open your eyes to the new mode
Keep on going, desert me not
For now I’m here, and I’m all you got

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
April 10, 2013

The Piper


Echoes of Song

Whistle and blow
The Piper shall show
The world of his charm
There’s no need for alarm
Enchanted in song
Children follow along
Being led in hypnosis to doom
Afoot the opening pass lies their tomb

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
April 10, 2013

Surreal Love

surreal love

Surreal Love

Back at the university
Sleeps a girl so pretty
With hair the color of red wine
I pray for the day she’s mine

But that day has not come – yet
And so long as the sun sets
Will continue to yonder
Until like the wind, it’ll cease to wander

She had me dazed and confused
For so long till I finally came through
Thinking about her endlessly
Searching for her restlessly

I still don’t know why she came to me
While I was all alone in a darkened sea
I was deep within the depths of despair
But there she arrived on the scene, a stranger who cared

A man with a broken heart
She was broke too, for a start –
And has asked to borrow my match
Lighting it to flames that my soul would catch

Transcending the smoke of distress
Transgressing the pains of emptiness
Our eyes saw our true selves
No one knowing how deep our hugs could delve

Life was so real
Colorfully surreal
And shaped in shapes
Triangularly round, like pied grapes

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
April 2, 2013

When the Levee Breaks


When the Levee Breaks

As I sat by the river
I contemplated with wonder
Of all the sublime beauty
That lies deep within humanity

The universe holds the secrets
And it is the heavens we credit
For entertaining our souls
As upon us a doom unfolds

Humming heads ceaselessly humming
Scores of madmen aimlessly running
Fearful of the agony of the anarchy that’s coming
An era to arise from the buried ashes of the cunning

The wind whispers sounds of reason
Progressing melodiously with each new season
The Moon shines its bright white light
Though the sun also rises, it hides out of sight

The mountains shiver in endless discomfort
From the oblivion soon to befall earth
The skies pray for a savior
To save us from man’s wreckless behavior

As night turns into day
And the sands of time fade away
The dawn of darkness shall arise
Deceptively reeling us to our demise

So, as I sit by the river I contemplate
About the state of man and awaiting my fate
‘Cause when the levee breaks
So too will our lives, once the beast awakes

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
April 1, 2013