Then did she turn her visage up to the moon of the sky And showed
me two moons at one season, both burning clear and bright.
She hath a nose like the point of the burnished sword and cheeks
like purple wine or blood-red anemones: her lips are like coral
and cornelian and the water of her mouth is sweeter than old
wine, its taste would allay the torments of Hell. Her tongue is
moved by abounding wit and ready repartee: her breast is a
temptation to all that see it, glory be to Him who created it and
finished it: and joined thereto are two smooth round arms. As
says of her the poet El Welhan:
She hath two wrists, which, were they not by bracelets held, I
trow, Would flow out of their sleeves as brooks of liquid
silver flow.
She has breasts like two globes of ivory, the moons borrow from
their brightness, and a belly dimpled as it were a brocaded cloth
of the finest Egyptian linen, with creases like folded scrolls,
leading to a waist slender past conception, over buttocks like a
hill of sand, that force her to sit, when she would fain stand,
and awaken her, when she would sleep, even as saith of her the
poet:
Her slender waist a pair of buttocks overlies, The which both
over her and me do tyrannize.
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