By another name

Unmöglich ist immer die Rose,
unbegreiflich die Nachtigall
---Goethe.

For Heaven's sake, do not talk about the rose!
Talk of the nightingale who is separated from his rose
---Rumi.

I am amazed, o rose, to see your kindness,
that you can sit together with the thorn...
---Hafiz

Joy and pain are the same shape:
you can call the rose an open heart, or a broken heart.
---Mir Dard

The nightingale read from the rose petals a word which a hundred commentators can explain only with difficulty
---Jami.

It looked to me from afar like a bouquet of roses
When I saw it from near, it was fire
---Khaqani.

And the night flowed back into the rose until the night was the night no longer. And who could say if it was the sadness in the rose or if it was the fire in the night that led one to the other. But this much is true: the rose is but an image of Beauty, and is destined to fade and die. A painted bird for a painted rose.

The nightingale still has grace as long as it remembers springtime and dreams of the fragrant rose. Even in a black sun there is the faint memory of the rose, like a single red thread. But what of crow?

If the crow were to see its own ugliness,
it would melt like snow.
---Rumi.