In Praise of the Beloved

An idol with a radiant face and a blessed spirit, a monarch ruling over the city of beauty. The most exquisite among all the exquisite; from her sweetness even sugar gleans a harvest. Her cheek has fashioned itself into the rose-petal of beauty; her stature outshines the graceful cypress in its pride. Her hyacinth hair has made the rose its home; from the corner of her moon-face hangs the star Suhail. A swaying cypress in the springtime of grace, an elegant pheasant in the garden of heart-stealing charm. She has scented the road with ambergris; her hair casts a canopy of shade over her rose-like cheek. Hidden in a string of pearls, a casket of rubies: her sugared words are food for the soul. Her two eyes like two enchanting sorcerers; her two tresses a caravan of Tartary musk. Her mouth, in truth, is smaller than nothing at all; the tips of her curling locks are twist upon twist.