Midst a garden courtyard
Cloister, statues guard
'Neath what, lush and glossed, orange-hung
For peace lily drape
As stilled, who sits before
A pool. And a mirror!
Slenderest of warm hand's ripplings;
Breeze-borne. Mouth, agape!
Through whose sensual postures
And swooning gestures
Outlines of a turkish harem
Now start to take shape.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem