To thee the thorn’s a rose; the wilderness, rich land.
O thou who in such quest hast wandered up and down,
How long wilt thou contend rose-garden’s sandy down?
Thou canst not now extract the thorn from thy sore foot.
With that blind eye of thine, how wilt thou see its root?65
A man whose vast desires the world could not contain,
Is sometimes by one thorn’s point sent to death’s domain.
Now Ahmed came; a tender, kind companion, he.
“Speak to me, O Humayrā,” said he, “speak to me.”[257]
Put thou thy shoe, Humayrā, quick into the fire.[258]