Ah, sweetest is the palm-tree's nut that those who reach must climb.
Alas! 'twas only yesterday a stranger reached the town--
Thou offeredst him thy heart and bade him keep it for his own!
O Zaida, tell me, how was this? for oft I heard thee say
That thou wert mine and 'twas to me thy heart was given away.
Hast thou more hearts than one, false girl, or is it changefulness
That makes thee give that stranger guest the heart that I possess?
One heart alone is mine, and that to thee did I resign.
If thou hast many, is my love inadequate to thine?
O Zaida, how I fear for thee, my veins with anger glow;