My day of bliss is that whereon thou drawest near to me; And that whereon thou turn'st away, my day of death and fear. What though I tremble all the night and be in dread of death, Yet thine embraces are to me than safety far more dear. And again the following: Though unto me were given all that can make life sweet, Though the Chosroes empire, yea, and the world were mine, All were to me in value less than a midge's wing, If that mine eyes must never look on that face of thine! When she had finished, I said to her, "O my cousin, let thy mourning suffice thee: for weeping profiteth nothing." She replied, "Thwart me not, or I will kill myself." So I held my peace and let her go her way: and she ceased not to mourn and weep for the space of another year. At the end of the third year, I came into the mausoleum one day, vexed at something that had crossed me and weary of this excessive affliction, and found her by the tomb under the dome, saying, "O my lord, I never hear thee speak to me, no, not one word. Why dost thou not answer me, O my lord?" And she recited the following verses: O tomb, O tomb, have his beauties ceased, or does thy light indeed, The sheen of the radiant countenance, no more in thee abound? O tomb, O tomb, thou art neither earth nor heaven unto me: How comes it then that sun and moon at once in thee are found? When I heard this, it added wrath to my wrath, and I said, "Alas! how much more of this mourning?" and I repeated the following [parody of her] verses: O tomb, O tomb, has his blackness ceased, or does thy light indeed, The sheen of the filthy countenance, no more in thee abound? O tomb, thou art neither kitchen-stove nor sewer-pool for me! How comes it then that mire and coal at once in thee are found?