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He lies who says that severance is bitterness; for me I find its taste none otherwise than sweet; indeed he lies.
I’ve grown to turn away from those who bring me news of thee And look upon it as a thing at which my gorge doth rise.
Behold, I have forgotten thee with every part of me. Let then the spy and who will else this know and recognise.
“By Allah, O my lady,” said I, “when he reads these verses, his soul will depart his body!” “O Ibn Mensour,” quoth she, “is passion indeed come to such a pass with him as thou sayst?” “Had I said more than this,” replied I, “it were but the truth: but clemency is of the nature of the noble.” When she heard this, her eyes filled with tears and she wrote him a letter, O Commander of the Faithful, there is none in thy court could avail to write the like of it; and therein were these verses:
How long shall this despite continue and this pride? My enviers’ spite on me thou sure hast satisfied.
Mayhap, I did amiss and knew it not; so tell Me what thou heardst of me, that did our loves divide.
Even as I welcome sleep unto mine eyes and lids, So would I welcome thee, beloved, to my side.
I’ve quaffed the cup of love for thee, unmixed and pure; So, if thou see me drunk, reproach me not nor chide.
Then she sealed it and gave it to me; and I said, “O my lady, this thy letter will heal the sick and ease the thirsting soul.” Then I took it and was going away, when she called me back and said to me, “Tell me that I will be his guest this night.” At this I rejoiced greatly and carried the letter to Jubeir, whom I found with his eyes fixed on the door, expecting the reply. I gave him the letter and he opened and read it, then gave a great cry and fell down in a swoon. When he came to himself, he said to me, “O Ibn Mensour, did she indeed write this letter with her hand and touch it with her fingers?” “O my lord,” answered I, “do folk write with their feet?” And by Allah, O Commander of the Faithful, I had not
