Years Trodden Under Foot Have I Lain

Years trodden under foot have I lain on that path of thine;
Thy musky locks are noose-like cast, around my feet to twine.

O Princess mine! boast not thyself through loveliness of face,
For that, alas, is but a sun which must full soon decline!

The loved one's stature tall, her form as fair as juniper,
Bright 'midst the rosy bowers of grace a slender tree doth shine.

Her figure, fair-proportioned as my poesy sublime,
Her slender waist is like its subtle thought — hard to divine.

Then yearn not, Bâqî, for the load of love's misfortune dire;
For that to bear mayhap thy soul no power doth enshrine.