astronom-penyair Persia, yang sekitar akhir abad kesebelas menulis
I sometime think that never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every hyacinth the garden wears
Dropt in her lap from some once lovely head.
And this delightful herb whose tender green
Fledges the rivers lip on which we lean-
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely lip it springs unseen.
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