I sat there till the evening and did
not return home till near midnight, when I found my cousin
sitting, weeping bitterly and repeating the following verses:
Ah me, what ails the censurer, that he at thee should flite? How
shall I be consoled for thee, and thou a sapling slight?
O thou, the splendour of whose sight has ta'en my heart by storm,
Whose supple bending grace compels to passion's utmost
height,[FN#125]
Whose eyes, with Turkish languor caught, work havoc in the breast
And leave such wounds as ne'er were made by falchion in the
fight!
Thou layst on me a heavy load of passion and desire, On me that
am too weak to bear a shift upon me dight.
Ay, tears of blood I weep, for that my censors say to me, "A
sudden sword, from out his lids thou lovest, shall thee
smite."
Ah, would my heart were like to thine, even as my body is Like to
thy waist, all thin and frail and dwindled for despite!
Thou, that my prince in beauty art, a steward[FN#126] hast, whose
rule Aggrieves me and a chamberlain[FN#127] that doth me
foul upright.
He lies who says, "All loveliness in Joseph was comprised." How
many Josephs are there not within thy beauty bright!
I force myself to turn from thee, for fear of spying eyes, Though
sore it irks me to forswear the solace of thy sight.
At this, trouble and grief redoubled on me and I fell down in a
corner; whereupon she sprang up and coming to me, lifted me up
and took off my outer clothes and wiped my face with her sleeve.
Pages:
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301