Bernard Page 6
  it could feel nothing more
but your face, voice, breath
against the air, in my mind,
against the weak gate
of my heart,
and I knew I was sick,
I knew I was sick
with desire: 'ishq.

Nor did it stop there:
the trees of the desert
grew tall in the heat,
but they shaded not me:
the sun flew like a hawk
disdaining its prey -
I burned in the sky glass
that filled me with fire,
with ever more deepening, ever more ardent,
demanding, intoxicating
desire: shawq.

Oh, how I hoped
as desire rode me
and made my heart soar
between its black wings,
I would find the reward
of tenderness
in the simple confession
before thee: halaf.

And at the crown
of that burning day
we would be
oned in mutual
in passion, in a dance
of ecstasy,
the thunderhead
in our arms: gharaam.

Oh then, I, amazed,