Is it the night of power - Bibi Hayati

Is it the night of power

Or only your hair?

Is it dawn

Or your face?

In the songbook of beauty

Is it a deathless first line

Or only a fragment

copied from your inky eyebrow?

Is it boxwood of the orchard

Or cypress of the rose garden?

The tuba tree of paradise, abundant with dates,

Or your standing beautifully straight?

Is it musk of a Chinese deer

Or scent of delicate rosewater?

The rose breathing in the wind

Or your perfume?

Is it scorching lightning

Or light from fire on Sana'i Mountain?

My hot sigh

Or your inner radiance?

Is it Mongolian musk

Or pure ambergris?

Is it your hyacinth curls

Or your braids?

Is it a glass of red wine at dawn

Or white magic?

Your drunken narcissus eye

Or your spell?

Is it the Garden of Eden

Or heaven on earth?

A mosque of the masters of the heart

Or a back alley?

Everyone faces a mosque of adobe and mud

When they pray.

The mosque of Hayati's soul

Turns to your face.

---

Bibi Hayati (19th century) Iran

Translated by Aliki Barnstone

Source: Poetry Chaikhana