Thy Cheek, Like Limpid Water

Thy cheek, like limpid water, clear doth gleam;
Thy pouting mouth a bubble round doth seem.

The radiance of thy cheek's sun on the heart
Like moonlight on the water's face doth beam.

The heart's page, through the tracings of thy down,
A volume all illumined one would deem.

That fair Moon's sunny love the earth have burned.
It warm as rays of summer sun doth stream.

At woeful sorrow's feast my blood-shot eyes,
Two beakers of red wine would one esteem.

Bâqî, her mole dark-hued like ambergris,
A fragrant musk-pod all the world would deem.