Original content

English translation

There was a monarch who was a marvel of the horizons, His monarchy was absolute. He had a daughter like the moon under the veil, From sorrow for her, the sun had lost its way. From head to foot grace and beauty and coquetry, Heart-illuminating and heart-deceiving and heart-soothing. The sun of her face kindled, Taught the sun and moon to be like motes. The deer in Tatarstan remembered her tresses, Until the day of resurrection the navel of the deer holds musk. The night from the night-colored rings of her net, A ring in the ear of the crescent moon from her hand. Her Hindu ring (curl) like a fortunate one, A hundred doors from every ring into every heart. Since the bow of her eyebrow arose very curved, Every tongue praised it rightly (sat straight like a bowstring). If an arrow went out from her bow, Whoever received it would immediately sleep in blood. The arrow of her eyelashes from the sharpness it had, From it there were a hundred kinds of bloodshed. As soon as she opened her narcissus eyes, She opened an ambush against all souls. A commotion fell among the sorcerers because of her, A tumult fell among the deer because of her. Her narrow mouth was like a letter 'mim', Sealed by her jewel-colored ruby. A hair would not fit in her mouth, Even if it were that hair of her waist. If I speak of her speech it is a mistake, Because it is bitter and one cannot speak the truth. Her bitterness and sweetness are mixed, For sugar was pouring from her saltcellar. The water of life is thirsty for her speech, The eye of Ridwan is in love with her sight. If you need a description of her lip, You need a hundred worlds full of gnosis. How can I give its explanation, what can I say, O Lord, Nothing I say is sweet except her lip. What can I say myself, how can I remember her, Because nothing is possible but a cry from her. That idol had a garden like paradise, Full of trees and full of ambergris-natured flowers. A servant had brought in the spring, A hundred laborers for the garden. They were all working like fire, And from the pleasantness of that meadow all were happy. Until that daughter came out to the garden, Just as a lamp comes on the fourteenth night. She was walking gracefully like a partridge out of happiness, Like a falcon, a head full of rebellion. Her satin dragged its skirt in the dirt, Her tresses gathered ambergris in a heap. When she became turning gently on the jasmine, All the flowers fell to the dirt out of shame. Among all those laborers, There was a youth restless as fire. He placed the love of the daughter in his soul, Why couldn't one place her love in the soul? The daughter's love struck a fire in his soul, Plundered his soul and struck his faith. The man lost control and fell at her feet, His hands and feet fell limply in place. His garment drowned in the flood of his tears, His fire-scattering sigh became like lightning. His heart went and his restless soul fell, His affair fell and what an affair fell to him. His sigh that appeared from the veil, Another hell came to the plain. His tears that poured out from his eyes, It would be a cloud if a cloud poured blood. Sometimes he struck his head on a stone restlessly, Sometimes he struck a stone on his heart countless times. Sometimes a soul drunk with love gave up its life, Sometimes he chewed his hand out of love. Finally he became unconscious in dirt and blood, He remained silent like that until midnight. The daughter became aware of that youth's love, She said to a servant, 'Go call him. So that we may laugh at him pleasantly for a while, So that perhaps we may attach ourselves to him.' The servant went and brought that youth forward, Led him to his grave by his own feet. When that restless youth entered, He saw an assembly in truth like a painting. Moon-faced ones standing before and behind, All intimate companions, sitters-together, and of one breath. In the middle a cup full of wine was circulating, Just as the sun turns from the sky. Ambergris candles scattered fire, Aloe wood every moment scattered a pleasant skirt. Roasted bird brought before the beauties, Then dancing from their lips. The secret of the musician became apparent, From the song of David that was. The sound of the harp and the wail of its reed following, Tempered with each other like milk and wine. From pleasantness and drunkenness and pleasant song, And from the beauty of the moon-like playthings. A boiling and commotion had fallen in the middle, A tumult had fallen in the world. And that idol sitting like a piece of the moon, Displaying such a face. The heart bought her beauty with a hundred souls, Bought a mote of her pain for a cure. When that youth saw such an assembly, Saw such an intimate in such an assembly. A severe trembling fell on his body, He trembled hard like a tree leaf. He wept like a spring cloud, He burned bitterly and wept bitterly. He wanted to raise a cry like a drunkard, They gave him a goblet full of wine in his hand. When he drank that goblet he lost control, He was drunk from love, he became entirely drunk. Like that with the ragged drunk and ruined, With a heart full of fire and an eye full of water. He would look towards her stealthily, How could he see her when he wept? The daughter came before him with a cup in hand, She was striking his soul when she sat before him. She placed her tress in the hand of that wretch, In his other hand she placed heavy wine. She said, 'Hold my tress tight and drink wine, Do not grieve, your tonight is better than yesterday.' When that youth saw his disgrace there, Saw her tress in his hand and saw her before him. That restless beggar did not know, Which thing to look at from that beauty. Should he look at the eye or the curve of her eyebrow, Should he look at the face or the curl of her hair. Should he look at the smile or two juicy rubies, Should he look at the glance or two twisted tresses. In such a place he had no patience, He did not have the endurance for the tumult of beauty. Finally he fell low from unconsciousness, He gave up his soul and his cup fell from his hand. He became free from this soul-taking world, He turned to dust and his love became like wind. Since you do not have the strength for the love of beauties, You are an unaware man that you have your heart on them. Since you do not have the manliness for this work, You sell the friend every time. Whoever wants to sell the kind friend, Will sell his soul before the water of Khizr.