Editor's Note: February

Sing your plaintive song, my lute,
Greeting every suffering lover.
Who fears pain, should cease to love;
All who love must surely suffer.
And love’s suffering, late or soon,
In my song’s re-echoing tune.

Once you’ve tasted of love’s wine
Passion will not cease to spur you,
Until circling round the light
In the end the flame will sear you.
Love does not regret nor lie.
Love is not afraid to die.

Nizami Ganjavi “Seven Beauties”