The magic play of her eyebrow like a crescent

The magic play of her eyebrow like a crescent
Drives me crazy with lust for her heavenly scent.

The poet protests love loves not those whom love
Fattens, but makes destitute: such is his reproof.

O God, bent and witless I stumble to your feet,
A beggar’s lips with only your name to repeat.

She took out her bright mirror and began to preen,
Curls upon curls caused my heart to wildly scream.

All the night I watch her until dawn’s false light,
When she cruelly disappears and fades from sight.

Night is all vanity and day begins once again;
All but her pale face fills me with regret and pain.

Darvish walks and walks to beg his daily bread;
One day, her magic will invite him into her bed.

 

 

 

 

 

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11 years ago

Enjoyed it thoroughly! Splendid!