A Ghazal The leaves fall to the larks mournful song; where are you my love The jeweled leaves sing their lament harmony; flight of doves Shall I search among the quartz flaked night? in latticed corners shall I pluck the moon from the sky, steal the light above? Should I mourn your artless grace, and crystal tears much longer? Let the mirrored grove of sorrow steal the flight of doves Shall I lament with the reed's warbling, longing grow stronger? Or shall I move on; linger no longer, give it a shove? Give direction my hollow, give reason to lambent pain justify my continued existence, not flight of doves The lark goes quiet, flies for winter; where are you my love? The jeweled leaves sing lament harmony; flight of doves