Another Love Poem

Is your doorway the rising of the sun, or the full moon? Is that your figure, or a swaying willow branch? I cannot tell. You shine, yet you never favor me with a single glance. You have grown rich; do not look down on my poverty. When you walk past me with that proud, graceful sway, I nearly die, and if you pass by my grave I come back to life. You hid yourself from me behind a veil, in anger. But can the light of your face ever be hidden by a curtain? Did you not see me: one hand stretched out toward you, and the other laid over my heart? Do you cruelly order me to endure your absence, when the love inside me overwhelms all patience? Smiling lips, laughing, made my blood their prey. May God have mercy on the one slain at those lips. Many a friend has blamed me for loving you. If only he saw you one day, he would see my excuse plainly. I am love's captive: if you wish, cry out your complaint, and if you wish, be patient, for there is no release from this captivity. Whoever drinks the wine that I have tasted will not sober from its drunkenness until the Day of Resurrection.