The dust on which thou treadest becomes an ornament, Worthy of the imperial diadem of Caus.[7] Haughty kings now prostrate themselves Before Khacan,[8] since he has obtained A favourable look from the object of his love. II. That blessing which the fountain of life Bestowed in former ages on Khezr[9] Thy lips can communicate in a manner Infinitely more efficacious. Nature, confounded at the aspect of thy lovely mouth, Conceals her rubies within a rock;-- Our hearts, ensnared by those eyes which express All the softness of amorous intoxication, Are held captive in the dimples of thy chin. Love has excited in my soul a fire Which cannot be extinguished;-- My bosom is become red with flames, Like a parterre of roses;-- This heart is no longer mine: It hangs suspended on the ringlets of thy hair-- And thou, cruel fair! thou piercest it With a glance of thy cold disdain. Ah! inquire not into the wretched. Khacan's fate: Thy waving locks have deprived him of reason; But how many thousand lovers, before him, Have fallen victims to the magic of thy beauty. III. My soul, captivated by thy charms, Wastes itself away in chains, and bends beneath The weight of oppression. Thou hast said "Love will bring thee to the tomb--arise, And leave his dominions" But, alas! I wish to expire at thy feet, rather than to abandon Altogether my hopes of possessing thee. I swear, by the two bows that send forth Irresistible arrows from thine eyes, That my days have lost their lustre: They are dark as the jet of thy waving ringlets; And the sweetness of thy lips far exceeds, In the opinion of Khacan, all that The richest sugar-cane has ever yielded. IV. The humid clouds of spring float over the enamelled meads, And, like my eyes, dissolve in tears. My fancy seeks thee in all places; and the beauties Of Nature retrace, at every moment, Thy enchanting image. But thou, O cruel fair one! Thou endeavourest to efface from thy memory The recollection of my ardent love--my tender constancy. Thy charms eclipse the growing tulip-- Thy graceful stature puts to shame the lofty cyprus. Let every nymph, although equal in beauty to Shireen,[10] Pay homage to thy superiority; and let all men Become like Ferhad[11] of the mountain, Distracted on beholding thy loveliness. How could the star of day have shone amidst the heavens, If the moon of thy countenance had not concealed Its splendour beneath the cloud of a veil? Oh! banish me not from thy sight; Command me--it will be charitable-- Command me to die. How long wilt thou reject the amorous solicitations Of thy Khacan? Wilt thou drive him to madness By thy unrelenting cruelty? The doomed To endless tears and lamentations. [5] A person, called the Mawezn, summons the people to prayers from the tower, at certain stated times, by ringing bells.