Of towered walls that kiss the painted sky,
Where iris hues within your waters gleam,
And warders four their steadfast vigil ply,
While bondswomen enchant your waking dream.
Fowls constrained, on pampered rations fed,
Are meant to stir your breast to soft delight,
And horseless cars your fleeting fancies led
To far-off scenes that vanish with the night.
Physicians haste to mark your pulse's beat,
And servile hands your weary limbs lave o'er
With fragrant streams and herbs of essence sweet,
And rarities are strewn upon your floor.
Oh, you avow, though fortune's darling seem,
Yet your soul lacks both solace and esteem.
-----Affaq