1. O my bosom friends, cease from blaming me,
And gently on the morn reprove me not.

2. Blame not the kin of Zainab if my heart
Is thrall to her; blame her not.

3. The abode of candour she, and grace to me;
To her my passion cleaves—condemn me not.

4. No portion left she for the maids with me
Save raillery my lips have wantoned.

5. By my life, the time of '*Amr unto her
The day Fate led and urged me.

6. Naught see I since I lived, if I forget
The halt near by, save pierce me.

7. Then to her girl and another she said
Of a lead-born ancient crone: Discourse to me,

8. How shall I see to‐day '*Umar approach,
Privily, in talk, that he may meet me?

9. They said: A messenger we fain would find,
And sleight the converse that it spread not.

10. My heart, since she vouchsafed it of her grace,
Is as the dedicated cloistered.