The Scented Garden

The Mystic the true support of all religion. 93 XXIII MIRRIKH1 Like Mars, red planet of the evening, Rising o’er breasts of tender earth in spring, So gleams thy podex, beautiful Habib, My brother and my lover and my king ! For Mars is like a rose and ball of fire2 ; For Mars is like a serpent with its sting. There is a pain, an ecstasy, a woe, A joy, athrob within the wondrous thing. The dull and boneless devotees of twat— Leave them to grovel ; we are well a-wing. Yet twitch that podex, like the wandering way Of Mars within the everlasting ring.3 So shall my member, like the nightingale,4 Salute thee with melodious twittering. I made thee famous throughout all Iran5 With these the naughty Ghazals that I sing.6 In every caravanserai the boys, As to their lords they fierce or languorous cling, Cry : “ Lov’st thou me, dear master, as Habib Is loved by El Qahar the conquering ? ”