The Scented Garden

78 The Origin of Evil. XVII THE COMPLAINTS I am become like a skull at the feasts of my friends1 ; for no sooner am I pleased by anything than I am reminded of the excellencies of thy love, the perfections of thy podex. Upon these I dis- course fluently, so that at last the guests are weary. Only last night I was bidden by Yusuf,2 that ill- conditioned3 bastard ! to hide my head therein, if so I loved it ; adding that, thanks to the Qazi, there would be no difficulty in performing the task. Both these reproaches are thy fault, Habib ! O beautiful one ! thou hast bewitched me and thou hast betrayed me. But as thy beauty excuses the former, so does thy return make an end of regret for the latter. Now am I aware of the wisdom of my tutor, who bade me weary not of the length of the Book4 ; but bade me praise the compassion of Allah, who made men evil that He and they might rejoice together at the end.5 It is indeed the fact, O gazelle-eyed boy, that thy podex is excessively wide ; but my member can fill it, pressing in to its length till the sun and moon are at rest upon the snow-hills. This (thou wilt remember) was not the case before thou didst for- sake me. Thou mayest doubtless ask shy, if such were the case, I did not cause thee to be violently enlarged by the eunuchs with divers fruits.6 ’Twould have given thee more pain, O boy of buttocks more beautiful than the peaches of Shiraz !