The jewelled form that appeareth yonder, is it a Goddess? or a peacock chosen from among its kind? or is it simply a lovely maid? Verily I am too dazed to tell.

How would it fare with men if the fascinating siren of the solitudes44 assail them with a whole host behind her? So fareth it with me when the lovely one returneth my look.

I never knew Death before: I know it now: it weareth the form of a woman and hath large and battling eyes.

She is simple and gracious, but yet her eyes are versed in the ways of waging war: for they drink the lives of those that look on her.

Is it Death that I behold or simply eyes? or is it the look of the gazelle? for all three are to be found in the glance of this artless one.

It is only when her eyebrows will cease to bend and will veil her looks that her eyes will cease to cause me the pangs that make me tremble.

The vestment that covereth the beauteous breasts of this fair one are even as the eye-cover on the eyes of the infuriate elephant.45

Is it by her fair forehead that my manhood is overcome, the manhood that causeth to tremble even those that have not faced me on the battlefield?

To what end are these trinkets that merely mar her beauty, when she hath the guileless look of the fawn and modesty as her especial ornaments?

Wine giveth joy, but only to him that tasteth it: it can never delight at the mere seeing as doth love.