"Susu," O dream of the poet,
O melody trailing through my thoughts,
smiling, I kissed the eyelids of the morning
when your phantom drew near my sight.
•
My little bud lies drowsing in her field,
kissed by the night-faring breezes,
while dawn pours over her lashes
its magical, radiant colors.
•
And the sweet water gliding in its brook —
rapture springs from its roar,
as if it were a flute in its purling..
or the chant of a monk in his cloister!
•
And the drifting skiff is a lullaby
that set enchantment dancing in its cradle,
like some sweet legend
a mother tells over her child.
•
And upon a leafy bough a bird
has made the garden drunk with his songs,
singing: "O my lily, awake —
may the roses in their sheaths be your ransom!"
•
And the dreaming flower awakes,
scattering pensive visions through the garden,
as though she were, in her cradle, a poet
bestowing smiling ornaments upon the universe.
•
Now she gives the water of the brook
a fragrance like the breaths of a first love!
And now she smiles at the carnation..
the smile of one longing for the sweetest of kisses.
•
Until a breeze passed by her
and kissed her, stealthily, on the mouth,
then drew near, pouring out its passion
in the accents of a besotted, lovesick suitor..
•
My lily cried out at it in anger:
"Away from my face, you usurper!
For I am still a little girl,
and have never yet desired love!!"
Baghdad — Hasan al-Bayati
