' So she struck the strings and
sang as follows:
By excess of estrangement, beloved mine, Thou hast taught long
weeping unto my eyne.
O joy of my sight and its desire, O goal of my hopes, my
worship's shrine,
Have pity on one, whose eyes are drowned In the sorrowful lover's
tears of brine!
When she had finished, Shemsennehar said to another damsel, 'Sing
us somewhat, thou.' So she played a lively measure and sang the
following verses:
His looks 'twas made me drunken, in sooth, and not his wine; And
the grace of his gait has banished sleep from these eyes of
mine.
'Twas not the wine-cup dazed me, but e'en his glossy curls; His
charms it was that raised me and not the juice o' the vine.
His winding browlocks have routed my patience, and my wit Is done
away by the beauties his garments do enshrine.[FN#5]
When Shemsennehar heard this, she sighed heavily, and the song
pleased her. Then she bade another damsel sing; so she took the
lute and chanted the following:
A face that vies, indeed, with heaven's lamp, the sun; The
welling of youth's springs upon him scarce begun.
His curling whiskers write letters wherein the sense Of love in
the extreme is writ for every one.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87