When fortune to Zuleikha's net was given,
In her own name was money coined by heaven.
Thenceforward to all earthly longings blind,
Did she her loins in Joseph's service bind.
Gold 'broidered robes of beaver and brocade,
According to his stature fair she made.
Waist-belts of gold, with gold-wrought diadems,
Each one of them adorned with glittering gems.
Three hundred, sixty, as a year of days,
Prepared, her finished task aside she lays.
And every morning, as new broke the day,
A robe of honour on his shoulders lay.
The Eastern lord put on his crown each morn,
With a new crown she would his head adorn.
When the fair cypress raised its head each day,
She in new fashion would his waist array.
His face, that ever heart-deceiving sun,
From the same collar never two days shone.
Nor twice that cypress from the garden fair
Would the same coronet of beauty wear.
Ne'er, like the cane, that sugar lip would find
By the same belt its slender waist confined.
When with gold crown his forehead she would dress,
A thousand kisses on his head she'd press.
And say: “My crown may dust be from thy feet,
“To rise to lordship's heights a ladder meet!”
And when upon his form she drew the vest,
In secret she the garment thus addressed:
“Thine and my body, may they one thread be,
“And from that form may I eat fruit like thee!”
When she placed the coat on that cypress' height,
She addressed it thus, as she pulled it tight:
“I hope from that cypress of rosy face,
“Him may I hold, like thee, in tight embrace.”
When round his waist she made the girdle fast,
Upon her tongue this longing floated past:
“If my hand were that belt, how would it be?
“If union I enjoyed how would it be?”
When she his curling locks with combs would part,
She found a healing for her maddened heart.
Of amber pure she would a net prepare,
Her own soul captive in that amber snare.
To eat at morn and in the eve again,
In her own chamber she would him retain;
Tables of various hues would she prepare,
Adorned with varied kinds of viands rare.
Candy and almonds for him sweets to get,
To his own lip and taste she went in debt.
By way of fruit of every kind and hue
The model of his silver chin she drew.
Into roast meat the breasts of fowls were made,
And like her own heart there sometimes were laid.
Then like his juicy mouth would she prepare
Conserves especial and of flavour rare.
Drinks would she make of sugar fine and new,
And water turned to candy at the view.
And to whatever thing he was inclined,
That would she, as for life, that instant find.
At night when thought of sleep he entertained,
Faint at his day's labour she herself remained;
A heart-enchanting coverlet she spread,
And made of silk and of brocade his bed.
Of rose she made a bed for his repose,
Jess'mine or tulip pillow for his rose.
She told him tales and stories ere he slept,
Dust from his mind by telling tales she swept.
Then when the veil of slumber closed his eye,
In fever with the candle would she vie.
Her two enraptured deer* until the dawn
That moon grazed of his beauty on the lawn.
At times the secret of his eye she knew,
Or of his mouth at times the breath she drew.
A tulip from the bed now would she take,
A purchase from his rose-bed now would make.
With his sweet fount at times her lip would play,
At him around his chin like dewlap stray.
Sometimes conversing gently with his hair,
At times his rosebud's secret she would share.
“Now from my eyes I tears of blood could weep,
“That such a Div should with a Pari sleep!”
Thus speaking the back of her hand she'd bite,
And pass the night, dark as her locks, till light.
Days passed into nights: her trouble the same,
No quiet or rest to her ever there came.
She soothed his grief and to him comfort gave,
And, though his mistress, was indeed his slave.
Yes: a lover will sell his soul indeed,
The loved one will serve with his soul at need.
Out of her path thorns with his eyelash put,
Although his eye should suffer from her foot,
With his soul's eye he waits on her intent,
In hope her heart towards him may relent.