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Written in Cordoba

These Western nymphs A challenge to the eye and the heart, Are bold of glance, In a paradise of instant bliss.

Thy heart is a wavering ship, Tossed by beauty’s assault These moons and stars that glisten, Are whirlpools in thy sea.

The warblings of the harp and lyre, Have wondrous powers— Powers that cannot be captured In the world of sound.

By teaching him the monastic wont and way, The Sufi has led astray the jurist of the town

The prostration that once Shook the earth’s soul, Now leaves not a trace On the mosque’s decadent walls.

I have not heard in the Arab world The thunderous call The call to prayer that pierced The hearts of hills in the past.

O Cordoba! Perhaps Some magic in thy air Has breathed into my song The buoyancy of youth.