In the bathhouse, on the tiles,
I like to see sandals
on my carefree feet,
leather ones, yellow or silver.
When I rise from my bath
I like it when a black woman
attaches with ivory clips
my hair, a brown mantle,
and, pouring rose-water
onto my breasts,
like morning dew on roses,
mingles pearls and perfumes.

I also like the fine smell
of the flowers of the Houris,
and on a China plate
sherbets of gray amber,
and opium, that liquid heaven,
that sweet and treacherous poison,
which fills the empty soul
with a star-spangled bliss,
and on the mirror-like water 
a soft noise of music
coming from a light barge
lit by many lanterns.

I like a scarlet fire
of cloth with rustling sequins
where gold glistens everywhere,
and the crescent moon shines.
The blossoming tree visited by
the bird that the roses love,
the spring where the water chatters -
they all please me one after another.
But in heaven and on earth
the treasure most dear
to my young and sincere heart
is love for love's sake!