名人诗歌|THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD(29)

THE SONG OF PRINCESS ZEB-UN-NISSA IN PR人工智能SE OF HER OWN BEAUTY

（From the Persian）

When from my cheek I lift my veil, The roses turn with envy pale, And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain, Send forth^{1 their fragrance2 like a wail3.}

Or if perchance one perfumed tress Be lowered to the wind's caress^{4, The honeyed hyacinths complain, And languish5 in a sweet distress6.}

And, when I pause, still groves^{7 among, （Such loveliness is mine） a throng8 Of nightingales awake and strain Their souls into a quivering song.}