Gulhinde at the dressing table

Give me the veil, Emina,

The soft, flowered veil,

That father has sent to me from Lar!

Give me the blazing diamond belt,

So that I can draw it around the garment folds,

Making the silken material more brilliant.

Give me the turban, rich with pearls,

that, gleaming from ruby eyes,

Waves high over the dancers!

Away with the henna, the amber salve!

SYSTEMI want nothing to distract from its bright look.

But give me the most glowing rose,

So that I can share the jewellery with my sister;

Yes, he has often called me sister of the rose.

At that time, when often he visited us

first from Teheran's courts with his attendants,

and when father secretly chose him for me.

Do you know, Emina, how much I blushed,

As father commanded me to lift my veil

Here in front of the stranger?

And now I may glowingly wait for him,

I may dress up for him as his loving bride.

You smile, Emina! Will I please him,

when my beloved looks at me again?

Now then, you friendly flower-eyes,

Season my chamber with sweet air,

Messengers from Assad's heartbeats:

Shine from the fragrances of Assad's soul!

Does he hurry, well attached to his courtship,

Greeting only a friend as he comes forth?

His whispers swell in me, remembered from blessed hours,

Drawing me lovingly to the path of my beloved!

Do you want to tell me, trusted traitors:

"Your sweetheart is no longer far away;

Joyfully will heart beat on heart,

when the next hour unites you!"