Afridi Love

Since, Oh, Beloved, you are not even faithfulTo me, who loved you so, for one short night,For one brief space of darkness, though my absenceDid but endure until the dawning light;

Since all your beauty--which was mine--you squanderedOn that which now lies dead across your door;See here this knife, made keen and bright to kill you.You shall not see the sun rise any more.

Lie still! Lie still! In all the empty villageWho is there left to hear or heed your cry?All are gone to labour in the valley,Who will return before your time to die?

No use to struggle; when I found you sleeping,I took your hands and bound them to your side,And both these slender feet, too apt at straying,Down to the cot on which you lie are tied.

Lie still, Beloved; that dead thing lying yonder,I hated and I killed, but love is sweet,And you are more than sweet to me, who love you,Who decked my eyes with dust from off your feet.

Give me your lips; Ah, lovely and disloyalGive me yourself again; before you goDown through the darkness of the Great, Blind Portal,All of life's best and basest you must know.

Erstwhile Beloved, you were so young and fragileI held you gently, as one holds a flower:But now, God knows, what use to still be tenderTo one whose life is done within an hour?

I hurt? What then? Death will not hurt you, dearest,As you hurt me, for just a single night,You call me cruel, who laid my life in ruinsTo gain one little moment of delight.

Look up, look out, across the open doorwayThe sunlight streams. The distant hills are blue.Look at the pale, pink peach trees in our garden,Sweet fruit will come of them;--but not for you.

The fair, far snow, upon those jagged mountainsThat gnaw against the hard blue Afghan skyWill soon descend, set free by summer sunshine.You will not see those torrents sweeping by.

The world is not for you. From this day forward,You must lie still alone; who would not lieAlone for one night only, though returningI was, when earliest dawn should break the sky.

There lies my lute, and many strings are broken,Some one was playing it, and some one toreThe silken tassels round my Hookah woven;Some one who plays, and smokes, and loves, no more!

Some one who took last night his fill of pleasure,As I took mine at dawn! The knife went homeStraight through his heart! God only knows my raptureBathing my chill hands in the warm red foam.

And so I pain you? This is only loving,Wait till I kill you! Ah, this soft, curled hair!Surely the fault was mine, to love and leave youEven a single night, you are so fair.

Cold steel is very cooling to the fervourOf over passionate ones, Beloved, like you.Nay, turn your lips to mine. Not quite unlovelyThey are as yet, as yet, though quite untrue.

What will your brother say, to-night returningWith laden camels homewards to the hills,Finding you dead, and me asleep beside you,Will he awake me first before he kills?

For I shall sleep. Here on the cot beside youWhen you, my Heart's Delight, are cold in death.When your young heart and restless lips are silent,Grown chilly, even beneath my burning breath.

When I have slowly drawn my knife across you,Taking my pleasure as I see you swoon,I shall sleep sound, worn out by love's last fervour,And then, God grant your kinsmen kill me soon!