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and of the pain of passion and chagrin. Sickness is unceasing upon me and my yearning redoubles ever; desire increases still and longing rages in my heart. I pray God to hasten our union and dispel the trouble of my mind: and I would fain have thee write me some words, that I may solace myself withal. Moreover, I would have thee put on a becoming patience, till God give relief; and peace be on thee.’ When Ali ben Bekkar had read this letter, he said, ‘With what hand shall I write and with what tongue shall I make moan and lament? Indeed she addeth sickness to my sickness and draweth death upon my death!’ Then he sat up and taking inkhorn and paper, wrote the following reply: ‘In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful. O my lady, thy letter hath reached me and hath given ease to a mind worn out with passion and desire and brought healing to a wounded heart, cankered with languishment and sickness; for indeed I am become even as saith the poet:
Bosom contracted and grievous thought dilated, Eyes ever wakeful and body wearied aye;
Patience cut off and separation ever present, Reason disordered and heart all stolen away.
Know that complaining quenches not the fire of calamity; but it eases him whom love-longing consumes and separation destroys; and so I comfort myself with the mention of the word “union;” for how well saith the poet:
If love had not pain and pleasure, satisfaction and despite, Where of messengers and letters were for lovers the delight?’
When he had made an end of this letter, he gave it to Aboulhusn, saying, ‘Read it and give it to the damsel.’ So he took it and read it and its words stirred his soul and its meaning wounded his vitals. Then he gave it to the girl, and Ali said to her, ‘Salute thy lady for me and tell her of my passion and longing and how love is blent
