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THE QUATRAINS OF
342.
If so it be that I did break the fast,
Think not I meant it; no! I thought 'twas past;—
That day more weary than a sleepless night,—
And blessed breakfast-time had come at last!
343.
I never drank of joy's sweet cordial,
But grief's fell hand infused a drop of gall;
Nor dipped my bread in pleasure's piquant salt,
But briny sorrow made me smart withal!
344.
At dawn to tavern haunts I wend my way,
And with distraught Kalendars pass the day;
O Thou! who know'st things secret, and things known,
Grant me Thy grace, that I may learn to pray!
342. L. N. Roza khwardan, "to avoid fasting." In line 2, for bekhabar read bákhabar.
343. C. L. N. A. I. Line 4, literally, "eat a roast of my own liver."
