The Cutting of the Rose
Though you talk to me with sweetness
on your breath and in your heart,
My body will not rise to feel
your meaning in whole, or in part.
I am a woman without a doubt
my servitude is the measure,
Your expectant stance and countenance
is but my single pleasure.
You will never have to worry, my love
If I shall ever stray,
For the offending thorn of my desire
has been sharply cut away.
Tuned and pruned to suit my groom
I am the comely bride,
Submitting to my husband's will
without desire but with pride.
I am free from worldly sins
for the path I chose,
May Allah bless the garden keepers
for the cutting of the rose.