English
Ghazal 19: The Bow of Your Brow
Who handed a heavy bow to those delicate arms?
A single glance from you is arrow enough to hunt the deer.
A thousand hearts fall prey before that arrow,
when you draw the bow that is the arch of your brow.
You need no armor, no war-quilt of chain mail,
no day of battle where you strap on steel.
The lands of India and the realms of the Turks would surrender
the moment they saw your Turkish eyes and your dark Indian hair.
Those fire-worshippers who bow to idols in the temple
can never have seen beauties with faces like yours.
Don't storm the rebel fortress with a catapult;
just throw the lasso of your hair over the palace roof.
I who lived a whole life hidden away like the phoenix,
you snared me the way a falcon takes a partridge.
I saw your lips, and my rubies lost all their worth;
you spoke, and every pearl was suddenly worthless.
The price of your face crashed the market of moon and sun,
as Moses' miracle broke the spell of the sorcerers.
No treasure is won by pointless struggle;
it is luck, not the strength of your arm, that brings the prize.
Only one who can bear an ugly temper behind a lovely face, Sadi,
should give his heart to loving a beautiful face.