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English translation

A king had a silver-bodied prince, By whose tresses the moon was caught in a trap. No one ever saw the face of that king Whose heart did not turn toward that moon. He was such a wonder of the horizons, That all the horizons were his lovers. His two eyebrows, which were shaped like a bow, Were two chamberlains at the door of the sultan of the soul. When an eye saw the arrow of his eyelashes, Its heart would be sacrificed, and it would choose his faith. Who saw the eyebrow of that heart-ravishing one Whose heart was not sacrificed to that bow? His mouth linked thirty pearls, Bound by his two bright rubies. His down was the mufti of lovers, Peerless in beauty like his eyebrows. His chin cast down the heads of men, Manfully throwing the ball in the field. A woman fell head over heels in love with that idol, Her heart lamented much and turned to blood. When separation showed its hand of power, She became bewildered and wounded of heart. She sat herself down in ashes, Since she was like fire, she made it her dwelling place. All night she would mourn for that moon, Sometimes shedding blood, sometimes sighing. If one day that moon went to the field, The helpless woman would run along the way. Like a polo ball she would run before his horse, Dragging her two tresses like two polo sticks. She would look back at the face of that moon, Shedding tears like rain upon the path. She would receive blows from a hundred heralds' sticks, Yet she made neither cry nor clamor. A whole world of people stood to watch, Pointing out that woman to men. All men remained astonished by her, And the helpless woman remained bewildered. At last, when this matter went beyond limits, The prince's heart grew heavy with this burden. He said to his father: "How long must this begging continue? Deliver me from the disgrace of this woman!" Thus spoke the exalted king then: "Take her to the field now. Tie her hair to the leg of a young horse, Gallop the swift horse from all four sides, So that that ill-omened one may be torn to pieces, And the world may be rid of her deeds. When the horse drags her like a mad elephant on the path, No pedestrian will dare look at the king again." The king and the prince went to the field, A world of people stood watching. All wept blood from the pain of the woman, And from that blood, the dust became like pomegranate flowers. When the soldiers gathered together To tie her hair to the leg of the horse, The bewildered woman fell before the king, And set out to entreat him along the way: "Since you will kill me, and that in misery, I have one request at last for you to grant." The king said to her: "If your request is That I spare your life, your life is indeed targeted. Or if you say: 'Do not drag me by my tresses,' I shall shed no blood except at the feet of the horse. Or if you say: 'Give me respite for a moment,' No respite is possible even for a moment. Or if you ask to sit with the prince, You shall never see his face again." The woman said: "I do not seek my life, Nor do I ask for respite from that. I do not say, O good-doing king, Do not drag me upside down at the horse's feet. If the king of the world permits, Beyond these four requests, there is another. That request is eternal and complete for me." The king said to her: "Say at last, what is it? For if you turn away from these four requests, You shall obtain whatever else you desire." The woman said: "If today inevitably You drag me miserably under the horse's feet, My request, O lord, is this: Tie my hair to the leg of his horse, So that when he gallops the horse for that purpose, He may drag me miserably under the feet of his horse. For when I am slain by that moon, I shall become eternally alive on this path. Yes, if I am slain by the beloved, I shall rise above the stars by the light of love. I am a woman, I do not have much manliness, My heart turned to blood, as if I have no soul. At such a time, for a woman like me who is worthy, Grant this small request, which is easy." From her sincerity and burning passion, the king's heart softened— What can I say? From her tears, the dust became clay. He forgave her and sent her to his palace, Sending her like a new soul to her beloved. Come, O man, if you are our companion, Learn true love from a woman. And if you are less than women, cover your head; You are no less than a coward, listen to this story.