If, for once only, she will show her face from the veil,
She will take the diploma of beauty from the sun.
The tulip shall borrow bloom from her countenance;
The hyacinth will grow furious at the sight of her curls.
Wherefore Both the world accuse fortune thus falsely?
‘Tis she, that with her eyes, hath desolated the world.
Either those orbs of hers are red from wine’s effects,
Or some one hath roused her from sleep, unseasonably.
She quaffeth the blood of hearts in the place of wine;
Then again, taketh roasted hearts, as au incitement to more.
The special death of the slaughtered by the hand of the beloved,
Is that they may enter Paradise, without rendering account.
Let my heart be a compass, and let it never vary or turn
In any other direction, save the altar of thine eyebrows unto.
Do not be so overjoyed, O Khushal! at all her vows;
For, from the bubble, no one hopeth for any constancy.
(Khoshal Khan Khattak)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Place Poems, Beauty Poems, Sleep Poems, Wine PoemsBased on Keywords: overjoyed, khushal, hopeth, diploma, unseasonably, incitement