Classic Poem

How deftly has she curled those two long tresses,
Forthwith all men's affections are distraught.
Her black locks are as a chain, her face the Kaaba,
With both hands seize those locks if thou wouldst make the Haj;
If but once it be that chain fall in thy grasp,
Ever will it bind thy heart in happy state.
Boast thou of the blessings of true affection,
When from thy heart thou hast expelled all strange desires.
My fame and honour I have squandered in thy cause,
In return what wilt thou grant me for my pains?
If I speak of sweetmeats, this is my intention,
That though with hard words thou shouldst give me yet some kisses.
Now has Khush-hal's heart completed its desire,
Since thy glance's sword has pierced it through and through.