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Anonymous

"Moorish Literature"

I
Am tired of waiting. Never was adventure
More strange than mine.
My cares continue, and
I am fatigued with efforts obstinate.
The trouble that I've taken to deserve
That pretty one, has been for me like that
Of daring merchant who doth undertake
A venture and gets nothing back but loss
And weariness. Where is thy cure, O Taleb?
Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb.
The Taleb answered unto me and said:
"Support her rigors. Listen now to me,
And I will give thee counsel sound and good.
Turn thy true heart aside from memory.
Forget thy love as she's forgotten thee.
Courage! Her loss now wastes and makes thee pale.
For her thou hast neglected everything.
And sacrificed a good part of thy days.
"My counsels heed and turn me not aside.
Hear what sages in their proverbs say:
'That which is bitter never can turn sweet,'
'Leave him whose intercourse is troublesome,
And cleave to one who hath an easy way,'
'Endure the pangs of love until they pass,'"
Where is thy cure, O Taleb? Tell me where.


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