Yet may my life be thy ransom, though it be thy pleasure to slay
her who loveth thee, and may God prolong thy life and preserve
thee from every ill!' After this, she wrote the following
verses:
Fate hath so ordered it that I must needs thy lover be, O thou
whose charms shine as the moon, when at the full is she!
All beauty and all eloquence thou dost in thee contain And over
all the world of men thou'rt bright and brave to see.
That thou my torturer shouldst be, I am indeed content, So but
thou wilt one glance bestow, as almous-deed, on me.
Happy, thrice happy is her lot who dieth for thy love! No good is
there in any one that doth not cherish thee.
And these also:
To thee, O Asaad, of the pangs of passion I complain; Have pity
on a slave of love, that burns for longing pain.
How long, I wonder, shall the hands of passion sport with me And
love and dole and sleeplessness consume me, heart and brain?
Whiles do I plain me of a sea within my heart and whiles Of
flaming; surely, this is strange, O thou my wish and bane!
Give o'er thy railing, censor mine, and set thyself to flee From
love that maketh eyes for aye with burning tears to rain.
How oft, for absence and desire, I cry, "Alas, my grief!" But all
my crying and lament in this my case are vain.
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