A beggar’s cloak, which you had hid me in,
The river’s ooze still staining me with slime—
On me—me, outcast and destroyed, she smiled,
And tossed for alms the white rose from her hair!—
[Taking from his bosom a withered rose, he looks on it rapturously]
My deathless rose!
BARAK
The rose of Turandot
Is dangerous as her smile.
CALAF