O That a Fragrant Breath Might Reach

O that a fragrant breath might reach the soul from early spring!
O that with warbling sweet of birds the groves once more might ring!

O that in melody the songs anew might rose-like swell!
That fresh in grace and voice the nightingale be heard to sing!

O that the New Year's Day were come, when, minding times gone by,
Should each and all from Time and Fate demand their reckoning!

In short, O BakhtI, would the early vernal days were here,
Then, 'midst the mead, ne'er should we part from brink of limpid spring.