There remaineth not aught save a fluttering, breath and an eye whose owner is confounded.
And a desirous lover whose bowels are burned with fire notwithstanding which she is silent.
The exulting foe pitieth her at the sight of her. Alas for her whom the exulting foe pitieth!
When Hasan saw her in this state of torment and misery and ignominy and infamy, he wept till he fainted; and when he recovered, he saw his children playing and their mother a-swoon for excess of pain; so he took the cap from his head and the children saw him and cried out, “O our father!” Then he covered his head again and the Princess came to herself, hearing their cry, but saw only her children weeping and shrieking, “O our father!” When she heard them name their sire and weep, her heart was broken and her vitals rent asunder and she said to them, “What maketh you in mind of your father at this time?” And she wept sore and cried out, from a bursten liver and an aching bosom, “Where are ye and where is your father?” Then she recalled the days of her union with Hasan and what had befallen her since her desertion of him and wept with sore weeping till her cheeks were seared and furrowed and her face was drowned in a briny flood. Her tears ran down and wetted the ground and she had not a hand loose to wipe them from her cheeks, whilst the flies fed their fill on her skin, and she found no helper but weeping and no solace but improvising verses. Then she repeated these couplets:—
I call to mind the parting-day that rent our loves in twain, When, as I turned away, the tears in very streams did rain.
The cameleer urged on his beasts with them, what while I found Nor strength nor fortitude, nor did my heart with me remain.
Yea, back I turned, unknowing of the road nor might shake off The trance of grief and longing love that numbed my heart and brain;
And worst of all betided me, on my return, was one Who came to me, in lowly guise, to glory in my pain.
Since the belovéd’s gone, O soul, forswear the sweet of life Nor covet its continuance, for, wanting him, ’twere vain.
List, O my friend, unto the tale of love, and God forbid That I should speak and that thy heart to hearken should not deign!