Bokhara shone, a city of shadowy towers
Crimsoned with sunset. In its turreted walls
I saw eleven gates, and all were closed
Against the onrushing night.
Then, at my side,
My soul’s companion whispered, “You shall see
The Gates of Knowledge opening here anew.
Here Avicenna dwelt in his first youth.”
At once, as on the very wings of night,
We entered. In the rustling musky gloom