May it please!
Instruct me, sympathetic with my pain
Have you not said: "I'll bring thee soon good news"?
O come! That in my sleep my eyes may see
Thee coming toward me, my black-pupilled one!
Awaiting thy fair image I'm consumed,
I am exhausted. Why, El Mannoubyya?
I long have hoped to see thee, O my sweet.
And ever farther off appears the end
Of my awaiting. All my nights are passed
In cries for thee, as some poor mariner
Cries to the angry floods that dash aloft.
For thee I'm mad with love, my pretty one,
Struck with thy mien so full of nobleness.
And I alone must wither, 'mongst my friends.
O unpersuadable, with teasing eyes,
I am in a most pitiable state.
Since thou repell'st me and declin'st to keep
Thy promise to me, I'll not hesitate
To call thee before God.
Unless thou deign'st
To cast thy looks on me the coming day,
I shall, all clad in vestments rich, make plaint
Unto the envoy of our God, the last
Of all the prophets. For thou said'st to me,
"I'll draw thee from the sea of thy despair.
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