His mirror shows beauty as ugliness,

His honey leaves a hundred stings in the heart.

His kiss robs the rose of freshness, 725

He takes away from the nightingale’s heart the joy of flying.

Thy sinews are relaxed by his opium,

Thou payest for his song with thy life.

He bereaves the cypress of delight in its beauty,

His cold breath makes a pheasant of the male falcon. 730

He is a fish, and from the breast upward a man,

Like the Sirens in the ocean.