And all the while I strive to make
His soul reveal a traitorous thought,
He turns his back on me, as if
To him my trembling fear was naught.
And when about his neck I cling,
He drops his eyes and bows his face,
As if, from thought of other arms
He longed to slip from my embrace.
His bosom heaves with discontent,
Deep as from hell the sigh is wrenched;
My heart with dark suspicion beats,
And all my happiness is quenched.
And if I ask of him the cause,
He says the cause in me is found;
That I am vain, the rover I,
And to another's bosom bound.
As if, since I have known his love,
I at the window show my face,
Or take another's hand in mine,
Or seek the bull-ring, joust, or race;
Or if my footsteps have been found
To wander a suspected place,
The prophet's curse upon me fall,
Unless to keep the nuptial pact
And serve the pleasure of my lord.
I kept the Koran's law exact!
But wherefore should I waste the time
These tedious questions to recall?
Thou knowest the chase on which he hies,
And yet in silence hidest all.
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