al-Mu'tamid 1040-1095
Poet King of Seville
As I was passing by,
A vine, its tendrils tugged my sleeve,
'Do you design' Said I,
'My body so to grieve?'
'Why do you pass', the vine
replied, 'and never greeting make?'
It took this blood of mine
your thirsting bones to slake'.
***************************
Sweet night of joyous merriment
Beside the swerving stream I spent,
Beside the maid about whose wrist
so sweetly swerved her bracelet's twist:
She loosed her robe, that I might see
Her body, lissome as a tree
The calyx opened in that hour
And oh, the beauty of my flower!
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