"What ails the Raven that he croaks my lover's house hard by, * And in my vitals lights a fire that flameth fierce and high? For times now past and gone I spent in joyance of their love * With love my heart hath gone to waste and I sore pain aby: I die of longing love and lowe still in my liver raging * And wrote to her but none there is who with the writ may hie: Ah well-away for wasted frame! Hath farčd forth my friend * And if she will o' nights return Oh would that thing wot I! Then, Ho thou Breeze of East, and thou by morn e'er visit her; * Greet her from me and stand where doth her tribe encampčd lie!" Now Zayn al-Mawasif had a sister, by name Nasím—the Zephyr—who stood espying him from a high place; and when she saw him in this plight, she wept and sighed and recited these couplets, "How oft bewailing the place shall be this coming and going, * While the House bemoaneth its builder with tear-flood ever a-flowing? Here was bestest joy ere fared my friend with the caravan hieing * And its dwellers and brightest-suns[FN#358] ne'er ceased in its walls a-glowing: Where be those fullest moons that here were always arising? * Bedimmed them the Shafts of Days their charms of spirit unknowing: Leave then what is past of the Fair thou wast ever with love espying * And look; for haply the days may restore them without foreshowing: For hadst thou not been, its dwellers had never departed flying * Nor haddest thou seen the Crow with ill-omened croak a-crying."