Though a morn I may awake with all happiness in hand * Though the world all be mine and like Kisra-kings[FN#128] I reign; To me they had the worth of the winglet of the gnat * When I fail to see thy form, when I look for thee in vain When she had ended for a time her words and her weeping I said to her—O my cousin, let this thy mourning suffice, for in pouring forth tears there is little profit! Thwart me not, answered she, in aught I do, or I will lay violent hands on myself! So I held my peace and left her to go her own way; and she ceased not to cry and keen and indulge her affliction for yet another year. At the end of the third year I waxed aweary of this longsome mourning, and one day I happened to enter the cenotaph when vexed and angry with some matter which had thwarted me, and suddenly I heard her say:—O my lord, I never hear thee vouch safe a single word to me! Why dost thou not answer me, O my master? and she began reciting:— O thou tomb! O, thou tomb! be his beauty set in shade? * Hast thou darkened that countenance all sheeny as the noon? O thou tomb! neither earth nor yet heaven art to me * Then how cometh it in thee are conjoined my sun and moon? When I heard such verses as these rage was heaped upon my rage I cried out:—Well away! how long is this sorrow to last? and I began repeating:— O thou tomb! O thou tomb! be his horrors set in blight? * Hast thou darkenèd his countenance that sickeneth the soul? O thou tomb! neither cess pool nor pipkin art to me * Then how cometh it in thee are conjoined soil and coal?