'Whose mistresses these are? ', I farewell to it
As they cheat so well, - in Eastern pride or vanity;
So far they can travell the ways when all eat
Some dishes, but one done to make someone pity?
Well! let me count the ways they choice- -
Nine are done in dearness, one in special!
The special, truely, is for one voice
Or, to void him officially, or make pale?
Then, what less undone to them, or less shown
When his eight thousand rupees atone?
Now the truth deployed; and pretty mistresses' gown
Worn out by icy temper, and do prone.
I say- our truest beauty is not external, but inner
And the beauty seeks beauty, except in war.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem