Poem XXI

1A beauty that all night long teaches love-tricks to Venus and the moon,Whose two eyes by their witchery seal up the two eyes of heaven.

2Look to your hearts! I, whate’er betide, O Moslems,Am so mingled with him that no heart is mingled with me.

3I was born of his love at the first, I gave him my heart at the last;When the fruit springs from the bough, on that bough it hangs.

4The tip of his curl is saying, ‘Ho! betake thee to rope-dancing.’The cheek of his candle is saying, ‘Where is a moth that it may burn?’

5For the sake of dancing on that rope, O heart, make haste, become a hoop;Cast thyself on the flame, when his candle is lit.

6Thou wilt never more endure without the flame, when thou hast known the rapture of burning;If the water of life should come to thee, it would not stir thee from the flame.