Ah! her face the rose, her shift rose-hued, her trousers red their shade; With its flame burns us the fiery garb in which thou art arrayed. Ne’er was born of Adam’s children one like thee, O cruel maid! Moon and Sun, in beauty’s circle, at thy fairness stand dismayed: Seems it thou the Sun for mother and the Moon for sire hast owned. Captive bound in thy red fillet, grieve I through thy musky hair; Prone I ’neath those golden anklets which thy silvern limbs do wear; Think not I am like thy fillet, empty of thy grace, O fair! Rather to the golden chain, which hangs thy cheek round, me compare: In my sad heart pangs a thousand from thy glance’s shafts are found. Eyes with antimony darkened, hands with hinna crimson dyed; Through these beauties vain and wanton like to thee was ne’er a bride. Bows of poplar green, thy painted brows; thy glances shafts provide. Poor Fuzūlī for thine eyes and eyebrows aye hath longing cried: That the bird from bow and arrow flees not, well may all astound. _Fuzūlī._ FROM LEYLĪ AND MEJNŪN Yield not the soul to pang of Love, for Love’s the soul’s fierce glow; That Love’s the torment of the soul doth all the wide world know. Seek not for gain from fancy wild of pang of Love at all; For all that comes from fancy wild of Love’s pang is grief’s throe. Each curving eyebrow is a blood-stained sabre thee to slay; Each dusky curl, a deadly venomed snake to work thee woe. Lovely, indeed, the forms of moon-like maidens are to see-- Lovely to see, but ah! the end doth bitter anguish show. From this I know full well that torment dire in love abides, That all who lovers are, engrossed with sighs, rove to and fro. Call not to mind the pupils of the black-eyed damsels bright, With thought, “I’m man”; be not deceived, ’tis blood they drink, I trow. E’en if Fuzūlī should declare, “In fair ones there is troth,” Be not deceived--“A poet’s words are falsehoods all men know.” _Fuzūlī._ MEJNŪN ADDRESSES NEVFIL