Hassan, the Story of Hassan of Bagdad, and how He Came to Make the Golden Journey to Samarkand: A Play in Five ActsA.A. Knopf, 1922 - 169 من الصفحات |
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
HASSAN THE STORY OF HASSAN OF <span dir=ltr>James Elroy 1884-1915 Flecker</span> لا تتوفر معاينة - 2016 |
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
1ST GUARD 2ND GUARD ABDU ALDER Allah arms balcony Basra beautiful blood Bokhara broken lute CALIPH Thou CAPTAIN OF MILITARY CARAVAN carpet CHIEF OF POLICE CHORUS coffin Confectioner dare dawn death DERVISH dinars Divan door Dost thou dreams eyes Eywallah feet fling flowers fool forget FOUNTAIN GHOST garden GHOST OF PERVANEH GHOST OF RAFI gold Golden Road guests hands Haroun HASSAN Oh HASSAN YASMIN head hear heart HERALD honour hour ISHAK Islam JAFAR JAMES ELROY FLECKER JUNIPER King lady lover Mashallah MASRUR Master moon Mosul night palace pavilion Peacock philtre poet pray prisoners prostration Road to Samarkand robes rose round sacks and sacks Salaam Salaam aleikum SELIM shadow shame shout sing slave SOLDIERS song soul street sweets sword talk TAMARISK tell thee thou art thou didst Thou hast unveiled veil Vizier voice wall WILLOW wind woman
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 167 - We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go Always a little further : it may be Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow, Across that angry or that glimmering sea...
الصفحة 168 - We travel not for trafficking alone: By hotter winds our fiery hearts are fanned: For lust of knowing what should not be known We make the Golden Journey to Samarkand.
الصفحة 14 - Yasmin. But when the deep red eye of day is level with the lone highway, And some to Meccah turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin ; Or when the wind beneath the moon is drifting like a soul aswoon, And harping planets talk love's tune with milky wings outspread, Yasmin, Shower down thy love, 0 burning bright ! For one night or the other night Will come the Gardener in white, and gathered flowers are dead, Yasmin.
الصفحة 167 - Turbans and sashes, gowns and bows and veils, And broideries of intricate design, And printed hangings in enormous bales ? THE CHIEF GROCER We have rose-candy, we have spikenard, Mastic and terebinth and oil and spice, And such sweet jams meticulously jarred As God's own Prophet eats in Paradise. THE PRINCIPAL JEWS And we have manuscripts in peacock styles By Ali of Damascus ; we have swords Engraved with storks and apes and crocodiles, And heavy beaten necklaces, for Lords.
الصفحة 98 - Among women who chatter and cry and children who mumble a prayer. But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout and we tramp With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair. From the lands where the elephants are to the forts of Merou and Balghar, Our steel we have brought and our star to shine on the ruins of Rum.
الصفحة 99 - ... broker of doom ; And the Spear was a Desert Physician, who cured not a few of ambition, And drave not a few to perdition with medicine bitter and strong. And the shield was a grief to the fool and as bright as a desolate pool, And as straight as the rock of Stamboul when their cavalry thundered along : For the coward was drowned with the brave when our battle sheered up like a wave, And the dead to the desert we gave, and the glory to God in our song.
الصفحة 169 - THE MASTER OF THE CARAVAN Open the gate, O watchman of the night ! THE WATCHMAN Ho, travellers, I open. For what land Leave you the dim-moon city of delight ? THE MERCHANTS (with a shout) We make the Golden Journey to Samarkand. [The Caravan passes through the gate] THE WATCHMAN (consoling the women) What would ye, ladies ? It was ever thus. Men are unwise and curiously planned. A WOMAN They have their dreams, and do not think of us.
الصفحة 80 - CALIPH. By Eblis and the powers of Hell, should I not know this, and know that therein lies the secret of the strength of Islam? In poems and in tales alone shall live the eternal memory of this city when I am dust and thou art dust, when the Bedouin shall build his hut upon my garden and drive his plough beyond the ruins of my 140 palace, and all Bagdad is broken to the ground.
الصفحة 157 - I am leaving this city of slaves, this Bagdad of fornication. I have broken my lute and will write no more qasidahs in praise of the generosity of kings. I will try the barren road, and listen for the voice of the emptiness of earth. And you shall walk beside me.
الصفحة 168 - Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells When shadows pass gigantic on the sand, And softly through the silence beat the bells Along the Golden Road to Samarkand.