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The folds of his raiment the new moon[1] enclose; From his collars she rises, as if from a sphere.
His eyes and his moles and my tears are as nights Upon nights upon nights, full of blackness and fear;
And his eyebrows and face and my body[2] new moon On new moon on new moon to the aspect appear.
His eyes fill his lovers a goblet of wine, Which, though bitter, is sweet to my sorrowful cheer.
With a smile of his mouth, on the day of delight, My thirst he allayed with sweet water and clear.
My slaughter’s with him; ay, the shedding my blood Is thrice lawful to him whom I tender so dear.
Then said she to Noureddin, ‘God on thee, O my lord, am I not handsome?’ And he answered, ‘O princess of fair ones, is there in the world a goodlier than thou?’ ‘Then why,’ rejoined she, ‘seest thou the other merchants bid for me and art silent nor sayest a word neither addest one dinar to my price? It would seem I please thee not, O my lord!’ Quoth he, ‘O my lady, were I in mine own land, I had bought thee with all that my hand possesseth of good.’ ‘O my lord,’ replied she, ‘I would not have thee buy me against thy will; yet, didst thou but add somewhat to my price, it would comfort my heart, though thou buy me not, so the merchants may say, “Were not this girl handsome, yonder merchant of Cairo had not bidden for her, for the people of Cairo are connoisseurs in slave-girls.”’
Her words abashed Noureddin and he blushed and said to the broker, ‘How stand the biddings for her?’ ‘Her price hath reached nine hundred and sixty dinars,’ answered he, ‘besides brokerage. As for the Sultan’s dues, they fall on the seller.’ Quoth Noureddin, ‘Let me have her for a thousand dinars, price and brokerage.’ And the damsel hastened to leave the broker, saying,
