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GIFT OF HARUN AL-RASHID
87
Like this pure jet, now lost amid blue sky
Now bathing lily leaf and fishes' scale,
Be mimicry?'
'What matter if our souls
Are nearer to the surface of the body
Than souls that start no game and turn no rhyme!
The soul's own youth and not the body's youth
Shows through our lineaments. My candle's bright,
My lantern is too loyal not to show
That it was made in your great father's reign.'
Now bathing lily leaf and fishes' scale,
Be mimicry?'
'What matter if our souls
Are nearer to the surface of the body
Than souls that start no game and turn no rhyme!
The soul's own youth and not the body's youth
Shows through our lineaments. My candle's bright,
My lantern is too loyal not to show
That it was made in your great father's reign.'
'And yet the jasmine season warms our blood.'
'Great prince, forgive the freedom of my speech;
You think that love has seasons, and you think
You think that love has seasons, and you think
