When the sun drives its daggers in the earth
You are the moon who will eclipse it.
You are the Creator's filigree
The finest tensioned bow of Isfahan.

The fibres of your hair are silver thread -
Snares, so no man can pass you by
Your mouth is a well-spring of life's waters
April can only blush before your smile.

You are the ruby of the sunset rose.
In India you are sugar, honev in Bulgaria.
You are the freshest flower by Oxus banks
Zuleika, Joseph's loved one, is your peer.

Whoever is the strongest is called Sage:
They ease the pain of every Man of God.
They say that "Jackals eat the finest melons".
The man who keeps you is too fortunate.

Your fame extends beyond the mountains of Cathay
Those who meet you marvel at your beauty.
You are the rose-red crystal prized in Hindustan
Golconda's decorated reed made flesh.

When Makhtumkuli hides his heart from you
Perhaps you hear the sound of grinding teeth.
Supposing the Creator fancies you -
Perhaps he'll match you with a poorer man.