is standing here, young and magnificent like a tree;
And your hair is a panther's shadow.
From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century).
GHAZAL OF MIRA
The lover to his lass: I have fallen before your door.
I came to ask for alms and have lost my all,
I had a copper-shod quarter-staff but the dogs attacked me,
And not a strand of her hair came the way of my lips.
The lover to his lass: I have fallen before your door.
The lamp burns and I must play the green moth.