Mehmet Sniffing a Rose

It is an unlikely pose:

in this portrait, copied

by Sinan from the lost original,

the Sultan, described by contemporaries

as hawk-faced, red-haired,

"of an aspect inspiring fear

rather than reverence,"

is evaluating a rose:

nostrils

delicately arched, lips

pursed, eyes lost

to the horizon-

this man, who favored

careful decapitation of his victims,

strangulation, impalement,

who had the son of Constantine's chief minister

slaughtered before his father's eyes

because he had refused to give the child over

to the Sultan's pleasure -

is nevertheless

holding the rose delicately,

between his fingertips,

such a frail thing,

but he appreciates its nature;

and in his mind makes a metaphor

between this rose

and the life of man:

kingdoms bloom and fall,

releasing their perfumes:

beauty, terror,

bloodshed,

new palaces on top of the old,

as the bones in the graveyards

stir-so the petals of history

unfold, one by one,

at the center,

a bare stalk:

a few thorns, torn leaves.

Mehmet,

bastard son

of a slave girl and a sultan,

who taught himself Greek,

Latin, Persian,

who scribbled

verses -

Mehmet, called

Fatih, conqueror,

is sniffing a rose,

savoring its scent: that is to him

like poetry, Greek logic,

like the fields outside Vienna

in springtime,

like Europe, like the sweet

necks of princes.