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Vis and Ramin

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BAMIN YEAENS FOB VIS 295<br />

my present grief <strong>and</strong> the sighing of my heart for lack of<br />

her, that I am outside all joy, that my heart is become<br />

black as her eyes, <strong>and</strong> when I am | away from her I am 331<br />

twisted like her perfumed hair.<br />

"<br />

Would that I knew what the cypress Mormed <strong>and</strong> sunfaced<br />

ravisher of my heart will do to me ! . . . She will<br />

become to me a bloody enemy on account of her heavy<br />

grief. She will sacrifice me, she will dye the earth with<br />

my blood, she will completely bring me to nought.<br />

Through capacity for travail I am like the earth. In<br />

hardness I am like iron, yet am I exhausted by excessive<br />

distress. I seek means to save my life. I am not an ass<br />

that I should bear burdens of earth till my death. I<br />

will go away, I will search out the pearl from its shell. I<br />

will go away <strong>and</strong> seek hope for my life from my soul.<br />

"Who knows what griefs I have endured through<br />

absence from my beloved? Who has seen such another<br />

grief in the world that sight avails as a medicine? Now<br />

my joy <strong>and</strong> melancholy are from her who is to me more<br />

desirable than soul <strong>and</strong> life. The sight of her will revive<br />

me, her converse will rejoice me, her embrace will immor-<br />

talize me, <strong>and</strong> her caress will make me forget everything.<br />

"<br />

Why do I hide my need from such a physician, <strong>and</strong> as<br />

long as I hide it so much the worse do I become in concealing<br />

this grief.<br />

I cannot quarrel with my heart longer.<br />

any<br />

I will make known its secret everywhere. I am<br />

drowning in the whirlpool 2 of separation. Thus the prayer<br />

of the heart of the afflicted one is fulfilled. I will go, I<br />

will beseech <strong>Vis</strong>. Surely she will be tender to me, <strong>and</strong><br />

wipe the rust from her heart.<br />

" But I fear that since I have become so ill without <strong>Vis</strong><br />

I may die before I see her. But this | seems<br />

to me joy : 332<br />

that in seeking her I shall be buried a corpse on the road,<br />

<strong>and</strong> every man will know my story <strong>and</strong> my sufferings for<br />

love. Whatever traveller or w<strong>and</strong>erer passes over my<br />

tomb will sit down a little, <strong>and</strong> I shall be pitied. When<br />

they learned my story they would beg forgiveness of God<br />

Saro. Moreva, R., 1124, 1281.

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