'From the wretched lover, the
sorrowful severed one, whose youth is wasted in the love of
thee and whose torment for thee is prolonged. Were I to
recount to thee the extent of my affliction and what I suffer
for sadness, the passion that is in my breast and all that I
endure for weeping and groaning and the rending of my sorrowful
heart, my unremitting cares and my ceaseless griefs and all my
suffering for severance and sadness and the ardour of desire,
no letter could contain it nor calculation compass it. Indeed,
earth and heaven are straitened upon me, and I have no hope and
no trust but in thee. I am come nigh upon death and suffer the
horrors of dissolution; burning is sore upon me, and the pangs
of separation and estrangement. Were I to set out the yearnings
that possess me, no scrolls would suffice thereto: and of the
excess of my affliction and wasting away, I have made the
following verses:
Were I to set down all I feel of heart-consuming dole And all the
transport and unease that harbour in my soul,
Nor ink nor pen in all the world thereafter would remain, Nor
aught from east to west were left of paper or of scroll.'
Then she folded up the silken tresses of her hair, whose cost
swallowed up treasures, in the letter, and wrapping it in a piece
of rich silk, scented with musk and ambergris, laid it in a
handkerchief; after which she gave it to an eunuch and bade him
carry it to prince Amjed.
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