The Garden of Bright Waters Part 5

You have the most understanding face in all the fair.

_From the Arabic of John Duncan._

THE LOST LADY

You are the drowned, Star that I found Washed on the rim of the sea Before the morning.

You are the little dying light That stopped me in the night.

_From the Arabic of John Duncan._

LOVE BROWN AND BITTER

You know so well how to stay me with vapours Distilled expertly to that unworthy end; You know the poses of your body I love best And that I am cheerful with your head on my breast, You know you please me by disliking one friend; You read up what amuses me in the papers.

Who knows me knows I am not of those fools That gets tired of a woman who is kind to them, Yet you know not how stifled you render me By learning me so well, how I long to see An unpractised girl under your clever phlegm, A soul not so letter-perfect in the rules.

_From the Arabic of John Duncan._

OKHOUAN

A mole shows black Between her mouth and cheek.

As if a negro, Coming into a garden, Wavered between a purple rose And a scarlet camomile.

_From the Arabic._

LYING DOWN ALONE

I shall never see your tired sleep In the bed that you make beautiful, Nor hardly ever be a dream That plays by your dark hair; Yet I think I know your turning sigh And your trusting arm's abandonment, For they are the picture of my night, My night that does not end.

_From the Arabic of John Duncan._

OLD GREEK LOVERS

They put wild olive and acanthus up With tufts of yellow wool above the door When a man died in Greece and in Greek Islands, Grey stone by the blue sea, Or sage-green trees down to the water's edge.

How many clanging years ago I, also withering into death, sat with him, Old man of so white hair who only, Only looked past me into the red fire.

At last his words were all a jumble of plum-trees And white boys smelling of the sea's green wine And practice of his lyre. Suddenly The bleak resurgent mind Called wonderfully clear: "What mark have I left?"

Crying girls with wine and linen Washed the straight old body and wrapped up, And set the doorward feet.

Later for me also under Greek sun The pendant leaves in green and bitter flakes Blew out to join the wastage of the world, And wool, I take it, in the nests of birds.

_From the Arabic of John Duncan._

NIGHT AND MORNING

The great brightness of the burning of the stars, Little frightened love, Is like your eyes, When in the heavy dusk You question the dark blue shadows, Fearing an evil.

Below the night The one clear line of dawn; As it were your head Where there is one golden hair Though your hair is very brown.

_From the Arabic (School of Ebn-el-Moattaz) (ninth century)._

IN A YELLOW FRAME

Her hand tinted to gold with henna Gave me a cup of wine like gold water, And I said: The moon rise, the sun rise.

_From the Arabic of Hefny-bey-Na.s.sif (contemporary)._

BECAUSE THE GOOD ARE NEVER FAIR

When she appears the daylight envies her garment, The wanton daylight envies her garment To show it to the jealous sun.

And when she walks, All women tall and tiny Want her figure and start crying.

Because of your mouth, Long life to the Agata valley, Long life to pearls.

Watchers have discovered paradise in your cheeks, But I am undecided, For there is a hint of the tops of flames In their purple s.h.i.+ning.

_From the Arabic of Ahmed Bey Chawky (contemporary)._

WHITE AND GREEN AND BLACK TEARS

Why are your tears so white?

Dear, I have wept so long That my old tears grow white like my old hair.

Why are your tears so green?

Dear, the waters are wept away And the green gall is flowing.

Why are your tears so black?

Dear, the weeping is over And the black flash you loved is breaking.

_From the Arabic (School of Ebn-el-Farid) (thirteenth century)._