Aflame That Picture's Sabre in Its Deadliness

Aflame that Picture's sabre in its deadliness of blow:
Like sparks upon its face the marks of damaskeening glow.

Is't strange that by thy side the bird, my heart, should rest secure?
Thy sabre damaskeened to it doth grain and water show!

The watered scimitar within thy grasp an ocean is,
In which the lines and marks are scattered pearls unique, I trow.

Thy sword a sky, its stars the marks of damaskeening shine,
My heart's blood there upon its face like break of dawn doth glow.

What though I call that Picture's brand a branch of Judas-tree?
For there the damask marks and grains like flowers and blossoms blow.

Figânî's verse on yonder King of Beauty's empire's sword
Doth like unto a running stream of limpid water flow.