English poem
Lxix
by Omar Khayyam (1048–1131)
My heart desires the face so fair--Of Farrukh; It is perturbed as is the hair Of Farrukh.
No creature but that lock, that Hindú swart, Enjoyment from the cheek has sought Of Farrukh.
A blackamoor by Fortune blest is he, Placed at the side, and near the knee Of Farrukh.
Shy as the aspen is the cypress seen, Awed by the captivating mien Of Farrukh.
Sákí, bring syrtis-tinted wine to tell Of those narcissi, potent spell Of Farrukh.
Bent as the archer's bow my frame is now, From woes continuous as the brow Of Farrukh.
E'en Tartar gales which musky odors whirl, Faint at the amber-breathing curl Of Farrukh.
If leans the human heart to any place, Mine has a yearning to the grace Of Farrukh.
That lofty soul Shall have my service true, That serves, as Háfiz, The Hindú-- Of Farrukh.