I've Never Been to the Bosphorus

I've never been to the Bosphorus, You don't ask me about it. In your eyes I saw the sea, Flaming with blue fire. I didn't go to Baghdad with the caravan, I didn't take silk and henna. Bend with your beautiful body, Let me rest on my knees. Or is it again so, that no matter how often I ask you, You will not care for centuries, That in the faraway name - Russia - I'm a famous, recognized poet. In my soul the harmonica is ringing, By the moonlight I can hear the dog barking. Don't you want, Persian, To see the distant blue land? I have come here not because of boredom - You, invisible, called me. And your swan hands Were weaving me like two wings. Long have I been looking for calm in my destiny And though I don't curse my past life, Tell me something About your merry land. Calm down the sadness of the harmonica in your soul, Give the breath of fresh charms, So that about the far North woman I wouldn't sigh, wouldn't miss. And though I haven't been to the Bosphorus, I'll imagine it to you. All the same - your eyes, like the sea, Are flying with the blue fire.