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They call on one departed, with cooing, as it were They’d drunken wine and madness did sojourn in their breast.
Ne’er saw mine eyes, I swear it, the like of them for doves! They weep: yet not a tear-drop is from their eyes exprest.
And also these:
O wind of Nejed, when thou blowst from Nejed far and wide, Thy wafts add longing unto that for which long time I’ve sighed!
Lo, in the freshness of the morn, from out the trellised boughs Of laurel and of cassia, to me a turtle cried.
She moaned, as moans the youth for love, and eke discovered thus The secret of my yearning pain, that yet I fain would hide.
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 her thou lov’st be unto thee denied.
Then said he, ‘O Ibrahim, sing this song after me and do after the fashion thereof in thy singing and teach it to thy slave-girls.’ Quoth I, ‘Repeat it to me.’ But he answered, ‘There needs no repetition; thou hast it by heart,’ and vanished from my sight. At this I was amazed and running to my sword, drew it and made for the door of the harem, but found it closed and said to the women, ‘What have ye heard?’ Quoth they, ‘We have heard the sweetest and goodliest of singing.’ Then I went forth, in amazement, to the door of the house and finding it locked, questioned the doorkeepers of the old man. ‘What old man?’ said they. ‘By Allah, no one hath gone in to thee this day!’ So I returned, pondering the matter, when, behold, he cried out from one of the corners of the house, [though I saw none,] saying, ‘Fear not, O Abou Ishac; no harm shall befall thee. It is I, Abou Murreh,[1] who have been thy boon-companion this day.’ Then I mounted
- ↑ i.e. Father of Bitterness, a name for the Devil.
