"Why is thy writing thus," my lover said to me, "Attenuate and
small, uneath to read and ill?"
Quoth I, "Because I too am wasted, ay, and thin. Thus should
their writing be, who weary at Love's will."
Then, casting my eyes on the beauty of the handkerchief, I saw
embroidered on one of its borders the following verses:
The down of his whiskers writes (good luck to it for A scribe!)
Two lines, in the basil[FN#124] hand, on the table of his
face.
O the wilderment of the moon at him, when he appears! And O the
shame of the branch at sight of his flexile grace!
And on the opposite border were the following verses:
The whiskers write upon his cheeks, with ambergris on pearl, Two
lines, as 'twere with jet upon an apple, line for line.
Death harbours in his languid eyes and slays with every glance;
And in his cheeks is drunkenness, and not in any wine.
When I read what was written on the handkerchief, the flames of
love raged in my heart, and longing and trouble redoubled on me.
So I took the handkerchief and the scroll and went home, knowing
no means to compass my desire, for that I was inexperienced in
love affairs and unskilled in the interpretation of the language
of signs used therein. The night was far spent before I reached
my house, and when I entered, I found my cousin sitting weeping.
As soon as she saw me, she wiped away her tears and coming up to
me, took off my (outer) clothes and asked me the reason of my
absence, saying, "All the folk, amirs and notables and merchants
and others, assembled here, and the Cadi and the witnesses came
also at the appointed time.
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