Number 14

The water of your cheek puts gardens to shame for color and freshness; beside your charming ruby lips, how could a rosebud's mouth ever seem so small and sweet? You are a European born, a lovely portrait with a face of flame; what spark are you, that fire breaks out even in Europe? Your blood-spilling lashes plunder a whole world when your highway-robber eyes set out to make war on lovers. I would reach the houris, the palaces, and the garden of paradise itself, if one day I could grasp the hem of that beautiful idol in our struggle. Words cannot capture the praise of your sweetly smiling ruby lips; yes, the mouths of the rose-cheeked beauties of the world are simply too tiny to hold it. Instead of wine, he drinks his own heart's blood, the one whose head is filled with longing to see those two half-tinted ruby lips. Her lashes set Eshraq's heart ablaze with their arrows; in piercing the heart, where could any willow-wood arrow match her lashes?