The cold gold of the levish moon,
The scent of oleander and gillyflower.
It is good to wander among the comforts then
Of a blue and gentle country tune.
Far, far away lays ansient Baghdad,
Where Shahrazad lived and was singing,
But now alas and ah she needs nothing.
The long-ringing garden has rang down.
The sad ghosts of outlying fairly lands
Have grown over with green charnel grass.
But you, traveler, don’t listen to the deceased,
Do not bow your head to the gloomy slabs.
Look around, how good it is all around:
Lips are drawn, drawn to roses tinny.
Make peace in your heart with the enemy —.
And you will be saffroned with beatitude.
If to live — so live, if to love — so fall in that,
Kiss and walk softy in the moon\'s gold,
But if you want to worship straight the dead,
Then do not poison the living with that dream-thought.
Even Scheherazade sang this sad words
the copper of the leaves’ll say for the second time.
Those who need nix nothing, in the vain
Only surely can be pitied in the world.