A Superb Zajal

You rivaled the full moon's light in the ring of company,
you who put on the blue jubbah.
You are the moon and the full moon, O dandy —
but whence would the full moon have such slender grace?

You are the moon and the full moon, O dandy,
with the fortunate ascendant and the flood of light.

Your mansion in my heart is thriving still:
you pitched your tent in its east
until its inmost corner was filled,
and you the tent concealed within it —
am I to be left drowning, drowned like this?

Am I to be left screened away from my eyes,
with the veils standing between you and me?
By God, do not deny the faith I keep:
the creed of love is upon you — my eyes gaze toward you.
And what would it matter, O Bey,
were you to pass our way in passing?

Were you to pass our way but once,
and I behold the blaze on the morning of that brow —
sweet, though on the letters of weeping bitter —
glory be to Him who fashioned you,
O full moon among the spheres!
Hail to him who named you:
your name rose in the town like a gasp.

Your name is Hasan, and you are beauty itself, O master,
and all, for your sake, are servants and slaves.

I surrendered my soul to you from hand to hand.
He said: write out the description.
I made haste, light and nimble,
to write upon the lip —
for I had reckoned your lip a sheet of paper.

And I had reckoned your cheek a bed of stock-flowers:
I rose to pluck it while the watchman was away.
He laughed and said to me: O deluded man,
the plucking of cheeks is never done
except by gazing and by scent;
this is the dye of blood —
and if you doubt it, flick it a flick.

And if you doubt, then hear me out,
and know, and tell your friend of me:
the snare of the spheres is written in my art.
It is my eyes' habit to play the coquette,
casting a blaze into the heart;
and I am the whiteness of snow,
and snow works a burning in the breast.

And snow is reckoned of my body,
and the sun my face — how should it not melt?
We said: gather the lovers with their hearts.
He said: O sage of the Greeks,
you are the prophet foretold —
when shall the Resurrection rise?
I said: the Resurrection is the hour of parting.

"Marqad al-'Anza"