O my friend, I have bidden farewell to repose, And the anguish of exile has doubled my woes I once had a father, who loved me right dear, But left me, to dwell in the tombs, where all goes. There fell on me after him hardship and pain And Fate broke in pieces my heart with its blows. He bought me a slave-girl, the fairest of maids; Her shape shamed the branch and her colour the rose. I wasted the substance he left me, alas! And lavished it freely on these and on those, Till for need I was minded to sell the fair maid, Though sorely I grudged at the parting, God knows! But lo! when the crier 'gan call her for sale, A scurvy old skin-flint to bid for her chose. At this I was angered beyond all control And snatched her away ere the crier could close; Whereupon the old rancorous curmudgeon flamed up With despite and beset me with insults and blows. In my passion I smote him with right hand and left, Till my wrath was assuaged; after which I arose And returning, betook me in haste to my house, Where I hid me for feat of the wrath of my foes. Then the king of the city decreed my arrest: But a kind-hearted chamberlain pitied my woes And warned me to flee from the city forthright, Ere my enemies' springes my life should enclose. So we fled from our house in the dead of the night And came to Baghdad for a place of repose. I have nothing of value, nor treasures nor gold, Or I'd handsel thee, fisherman, freely with those! But I give thee, instead, the beloved of my soul, And in her thou hast gotten my heart's blood, God knows!