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13. (Written in Cordoba) |
These Western nymphs A challenge to the eye and the heart,
Are bold of glance, In a paradise of instant bliss. |
Thy heart is a wavering ship, Tossed by beauty’s assault
These moons and stars that glisten, Are whirlpools in thy sea. |
The warblings of the harp and lyre, Have wondrous powers—
Powers that cannot be captured In the world of sound. |
By teaching him the monastic wont and way,
The Sufi has led astray the jurist of the town. |
The prostration that once Shook the earth’s soul,
Now leaves not a trace On the mosque’s decadent walls. |
I have not heard in the Arab world The thunderous call
The call to prayer that pierced The hearts of hills in the past. |
O Cordoba! Perhaps Some magic in thy air
Has breathed into my song The buoyancy of youth. |
Translated by: Naim Siddiqui |
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