1. His company I never lack, its loss brings me no ease,
For it's a blessing among other boons and joys.

2. My day seems long when he's apart, as though
I'm fasting but forgot the fast's decrees.

3. When entertained, I check his mirth lest he in joy exceed,
And hold the flowing stream of talk in rein.

4. He opens not his mouth except with toil, as if
It gaped but for the hugest mouthful's gain.

5. His circle is the rally of delights, no scanty fare,
No feast of sorrows, griefs, regrets, and pain.

6. He chants when he arrives: "Be glad, though far from kin,
Homesick, heartsore, you pined in loneliness vain!"

7. As long as I behold him there I seem to sip
My wine-cup mixed with blood-drops from my veins.

8. When met two hours he makes old covenants new
Which time destroys not, though it rends the chain.

9. He shows whate'er you knew in bygone terms is naught,
The least of things in days and years of bane.

10. His comradeship is fortune's gift, that blesses life
But for the swift-paced steed that brings old age's wane.

11. When boon-companions hail him for a space, their talk
Turns ever to regrets and grief and pain.

12. Till eve we converse, then he asks, "Shall morning light
Once more the house with all therein again?"

13. He craves a draught, and when 'tis said, "You've done us well,"
His folk smile blandly though with rage they're fain.

14. How feign them pleasure in hypocrisy, how pretend,
When nature's self is fused in their disdain?

15. Dislike appears upon his face as though a blot
Of soot had marred its brightness' sheen and stain.

16. Naught have I tasted, but to hold my peace near him
Is worse than poison's burning in my brain.

17. When comes the call to prayer, relief rewards our pain,
As 'twere to one long racked repose made plain.

18. He chants in voice offensive to the hearer's soul,
Praise God who fashioned Man from clotted strain!

19. He bursts in rough uncouthly rhymed lines that appall,
Like braying discord in a monkish train.

20. His chant a choking grief, his tremulousness like the bleat
Of silly camels in a mourning train.

21. Had it but hallowed God of Might, the Speaking One
Ne'er raised the goodly Word man's creed to gain.

22. It terrifies the children small when some poor brat
Falls weeping, since he slept not, as 'twere slain.

23. My heart is flint when hearing him, though dear ones sigh
And greet his cruelty with tear and rain.

24. I swear by God who hath no like, no match, no peer,
'Tis naught but surfeit of God's boons of bane!

25. None hath God shown before him who so lacked all good,
No dearth of bounty like his ban and bane!