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If thou please me and he please thee in public, look thou hide And keep in secret straiter watch o’er love, lest ill betide.
And disregard and put away the tales of slanderers; For seldom seeks the sland’rer aught but lovers to divide.
They say that when a lover’s near, he wearies of his love And that by absence passion’s cured. ’Tis false; for I have tried
Both remedies, but am not cured of that which is with me, Withal that nearness easier is than distance to abide.
Yet nearness of abode, forsooth, may nowise profit thee, An if the grace of him thou lov’st be unto thee denied.
When she finished, Abou Isa said, “O Commander of the Faithful, we will be at peace, though we be dishonoured. Dost thou give me leave to reply to her?” “Yes,” answered the Khalif. “Say what thou wilt to her.” So he swallowed his tears and sang these verses:
I held my peace nor said, “I am in love;” and eke The passion that I felt even from my heart hid I:
And natheless, if my eyes do manifest my love, It is because they are the shining moon anigh.
Then Curret el Ain took the lute and rejoined with the following:
If what thou dost pretend were very truth, Thou woulst not with mere wishing rest content,
Nor couldst endure to live without a girl, In charms and beauty wonder excellent.
But there is nought in that thou dost avouch, Save only idle talk and compliment.
When Abou Isa heard this, he fell a-weeping and lamenting and discovered the trouble and anguish of his soul. Then he raised his eyes to her and sighing, repeated the following:
Under my wede there is a wasted body And in my soul an all-absorbing thought.
I have a heart, whose suffering is eternal, And eyes with tears like torrents ever fraught.
