Djufar's Song
DJUFAR'S SONG.
In Tanta, city of the dancing-girls,
Where white and yellow cotton-blossoms grow,
Where maize-fields fringe the delta-ed Nile with green,
And water-wheels are turned by buffalo,—
In that same town old Djufar lived, a man
Famed for his tongue, for he had power to rhyme
With the long verses that the Orient loves
In rhythm to the merry dancers' time.
So well he sang the town—its minarets,
Its hundred dove-towers, and its market-place—
That the charmed listener sprang not up to dance,
But rather wept, his hand before his face.
Where white and yellow cotton-blossoms grow,
Where maize-fields fringe the delta-ed Nile with green,
And water-wheels are turned by buffalo,—
In that same town old Djufar lived, a man
Famed for his tongue, for he had power to rhyme
With the long verses that the Orient loves
In rhythm to the merry dancers' time.
So well he sang the town—its minarets,
Its hundred dove-towers, and its market-place—
That the charmed listener sprang not up to dance,
But rather wept, his hand before his face.
Early one morn he sat beside his door,
Full-clad, though still the rising sun was red.
Then all the maidens at the fountain cried:
"Djufar's composing, he's forgot his bed,
So that this evening when mid hashish fumes,
Barefooted, to the sound of flutes we dance
The veil-dance, he may sing and lure us first
To laughter and anon to tears, perchance."
Full-clad, though still the rising sun was red.
Then all the maidens at the fountain cried:
"Djufar's composing, he's forgot his bed,
So that this evening when mid hashish fumes,
Barefooted, to the sound of flutes we dance
The veil-dance, he may sing and lure us first
To laughter and anon to tears, perchance."
Then answered Djufar: "Have I time for song,
I, whom a desert grave will soon devour?
Not even for my slumber would I lose
So cool and exquisite a morning hour."
I, whom a desert grave will soon devour?
Not even for my slumber would I lose
So cool and exquisite a morning hour."
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