Her Every Curl a Thousand Tangles Bears

Her every curl a thousand heart-enchanting tangles bears,
And every tangle in each curl a thousand souls ensnares.

A sly and roguish glance hath she, and a soft smile and sweet,
A dulcet and a graceful speech, and dear seductive airs.

Behold those locks of ambergris beneath her fez of white,
And see a wallflower sweet a vest of jasmine leaves that wears.

I may not tell the tale of her bright charms, nor mayst thou hear;
Yet naught but lack of some small troth her sweetest self impairs.

An eye she hath that knoweth many an hundred thousand tongues;
A thousand mates who understand its speech hath she for feres.

My lord, thou wert with envy torn, an if thou didst but know
What manner of adventure now Nedim in joyance shares.