A beauty that all night long teaches love-tricks to Venus and the moon, Whose two eyes by their witchery seal up the two eyes of heaven. Look to your hearts! I, whate’er betide, O Moslems, Am so mingled with him that no heart is mingled with me. I was born of his love at the first, I gave him my heart at the last; When the fruit springs from the bough, on that bough it hangs. The tip of his curl is saying, “Ho! betake you to rope-dancing.” The cheek of his candle is saying, “Where is a moth that it may burn?” For the sake of dancing on that rope, O heart, make haste, become a hoop; Cast yourself on the flame, when his candle is lit. You will never more endure without the flame, when you have known the rapture of burning; If the water of life should come to you, it would not stir you from the flame.