Is't strange if beauties' hearts turn blood through envy of thy
cheek most fair?
For that which stone to ruby turns is but the radiant sunlight's
glare.
Or strange is't if thine eyelash conquer all the stony-hearted
ones?
For meet an ebon shaft like that a barb of adamant should bear!
Thy cheek's sun-love hath on the hard, hard hearts of fairy beauties
fall'n,
And many a steely-eyed one hath received thy bright reflection fair.
The casket, thy sweet mouth, doth hold spellbound the _huri_-faced
ones all;
The virtue of Suleiman's Ring was that fays thereto fealty sware.
Is't strange if, seeing thee, they rub their faces lowly midst the
dust?
That down to Adam bowed the angel throng doth the Koran declare!
On many and many a heart of stone have fall'n the pangs of love for
thee!
A fire that lies in stone concealed is thy heart-burning love's
dread glare!
Within her ward, with garments rent, on all sides rosy-cheeked ones
stray;
Fuzuli, through those radiant hues, that quarter beams a garden fair.