Classic Poem

(KH A N OF THE CRIMEA)

G AZEL

If the fair one would but come in her lover's home to stay,
Were his eyes not filled with light by her face as bright as day?
Or would yonder Moon but dart that her glance as dagger keen,
And my rival's bosom pierce that, like flute, he breathe dismay!
Fly not this poor one, Moon-face, who hath drunken deep of woe;
Order not that I be burned in the fire of love, I pray.
If the grace of God the Lord to a slave should aider be,
Though he lack a single groat he'll the Sphere as monarch sway.
Rush the tear-drops from my eyes through their longing for thy face; —
By its power thy sun-like face doth the dew-drops steal away.
By the Mystic Pathway's side, if thou'rt wise, a hostel build,
For the travelers of Love, as a caravanseray.
Proud and noble mistress mine, with those eyebrows and those eyes,
Where a need of bow and shaft this thy lover fond to slay?
Thou hast loosed thy tresses dark, o'er thy day-face spread a veil —
Or in House of Scorpio is the Moon eclipsed, say?
Should my loved one pierce my breast, right contented sooth were I;
Only worthy of her grace let that Moon-face me survey.
Write, O pen, that I desire, like the salamander, fire;
Thus declare, should she it will, yonder lovely Queen Hum a y.
Is it then the shining moon that the world doth silver o'er,
Or the radiance of thy face that doth earth in light array?
Did the caviller dispute and thy sun-bright face decry,
Would thy lover, like the mote, to that fool the truth convey.
Lovers surely for their loves do their talents aye employ;
Is it thine thy tribute now to present, Sh a h i n Gir a y?