The fragrance of River Muliyan overwhlems me.
It brings sweet memories of my beloved.
The roughness of the river’s gravel
Like silk under my feet . . .
Emir the moon, Bukhara the sky;
The moon is rising in the sky.
Emir the tall cypress, Bukhara the garden;
The cypress is coming to the garden.
Sayfa 320 - 321