The Poetry Corner

Her Nails

By Edward Powys Mathers (As Translator)

She is as wise as Hippocrates, As beautiful as Joseph, As sweet-voiced as David, As pure as Mary. I am as sad as Jacob, As lonely as Jonah, As patient as Job, As unfortunate as Adam. When I met her again And saw her nails Prettily purpled, I reproached her for making up When I was not there. She told me gently That she was no coquette, But had wept tears of blood Because I was not there, And maybe she had dried her eyes With her little hands. I would like to have wept before she wept; But she wept first And has the better love. Her eyes are long eyes, And her brows are the bows of subtle strong men. From the Arabic of Yazid Ebn Moauia (seventh century).