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“By Allah, O Shefikeh, one look at him were liefer to me than all that my hand possesseth! Would I knew what I shall do, whenas Baghdad is empty of him and I hear no tidings of him!” Then she wept and calling for inkhorn and paper and pen of brass, wrote the following verses:
Still do I yearn, whilst passion’s fire flames in my liver aye; For parting’s shafts have smitten me and done my strength away.
Oft for thy love as I would be consoled, my yearning turns To-thee-ward still and my desires my reason still gainsay.
My transports I conceal for fear of those thereon that spy; Yet down my cheeks the tears course still and still my case bewray.
No rest is there for me, no life wherein I may delight, Nor pleasant meat nor drink avails to please me, night or day.
To whom save thee shall I complain, of whom relief implore, Whose image came to visit me, what while in dreams I lay?
Reproach me not for what I did, but be thou kind to one Who’s sick of body and whose heart is wasted all away.
The fire of love-longing I hide; severance consumeth me, A thrall of care, for long desire to wakefulness a prey.
Midmost the watches of the night I see thee, in a dream; A lying dream, for he I love my love doth not repay.
Would God thou knewest that for love of thee which I endure! It hath indeed brought down on me estrangement and dismay.
Read thou my writ and apprehend its purport, for my case This is and fate hath stricken me with sorrows past allay.
Know, then, the woes that have befall’n a lover, neither grudge Her secret to conceal, but keep her counsel still, I pray.
Then she folded the letter and giving it to her slave-
