CHRISTOPHER MIDDLETON
Myrtle branches stooped over the stream.
And the garden was as if delighted
By what was present: embraces, kisses, caresses.
Hafsa replies with a counterpoem:
(7)
By your life! The garden was not glad because we met.
Rather it showed us rancor and envy.
The river did not clap its hands
to
have us close,
And the dove sang of its aches and pains.
You're not thinking straight for once:
Everywhel-e those people are up to no good.
I think the sky showed us its stars
Only to spy on us.
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The order in which poems 8-15 were written is not known, but 16 and
17 can be assumed to be the last two. Hafsa's phrasing remains conventional
enough. Her own voice, however, her pulse, the urgency of her feelings be–
come increasingly poignant as the political situation worsens. She would also
have known in advance of the dangers besetting Abu Ja'far's entire family:
his brother, Abd al-Rahman, actually joined Ibn Mardanis after the revolt had
been put down, but was captured, imprisoned for a time, then executed.
(8)
Those lips 1 praise because 1 know
What 1 am saying, what 1 mean.
1 do them justice, tell no lies.
From them I'm drunk and what 1 drank
Tasted better than any wine.
(9)
Come and see my verses
Be thrilled by their peads
Which will adorn your ears
It
is the way a garden
Cannot go to you
But sends you its perfume.
