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Suppose for distraction he seek in the Spring and its blooms one day, The face of his loved one holds the only Spring for his eye.
O blamer of me for the love of him who denieth his grace, Which be the delightsome of things, but those which the people deny?
A sun [is my love;] but his heat in mine entrails still rageth, concealed; A moon, in the hearts of the folk he riseth, and not in the sky.
When she had made an end of her song, she threw the lute from her hand and wept, whilst the old man wept for her weeping. Then she fell down in a swoon and presently coming to herself, filled the cup and drinking it off, gave the old man to drink, after which she took the lute and breaking out into song, chanted the following verses:
Thy loss is the fairest of all my heart’s woes; My case it hath altered and banished repose.
The world is upon me all desolate grown. Alack, my long grief and forlornness! Who knows
But the Merciful yet may incline thee to me And unite us again, in despite of our foes!
Then she wept till her voice rose high and her lamentation was discovered [to those without]; after which she again began to drink and plying the old man with wine, sang the following verses:
They have shut out thy person from my sight; They cannot shut thy memory from my spright.
Favour or flout me, still my soul shall be Thy ransom, in contentment or despite.
