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IN the night I fancied

That I saw in sleep the moon; But, upon my waking,

Unsurmised came up the sun.




“HOU must not Åly before the day :
For the day which thou art chasing
Is no better than the present;
Bide with me content, embracing
Moment of a world more pleasant
Than the one I put away

For this that has no taste of sorrow:
Day's to-day, to-morrow's morrow,
And the future does not hurry,

Past time loiters not to worry.

My beloved, only linger;

Of myself thou art the bringer.

That Suleika with Jussúph was smitten
Was nothing strange;

He was young, youth has its range;
He was fair, they say, to blissfulness,
She was fair, they could each other bless.
But that thou, for whom so long I tarried,

Sendest to me youth's hot glance,
Lovest me, and later wilt entrance,
That shall be my song's acclaim,
Suleika ever be thy name.

Since thyself Suleika callest,
Also I benamed must be.
When thy lover thou extollest -
Hatem 2 that the name shall be.
Let it not be thought presuming
Because that the name shall be,
No St. George's knight is pluming
That himself St. George may be.
Not Hatem Thai, famousest of givers,
In my poverty can I be ;

Nor Hatem Zograi, stingiest of livers
Among all poets, would I be.

But to scan them both for mending
Myself will not blameworthy be;
Fortune's gifts to take for spending
Shall my great relish ever be.

Each with each, love's outlay blending,
Bliss of Paradise will be.


No thief-maker is Occasion,
Greatest thief she is herself;

For she stole Love's latest ration,
Left my heart an empty shelf.

Unto thee has she made over

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All I had my life's clear gain,
So that I, a beggar'd lover,
Sue thee for my life again.

Yet already with thy burning
Gaze I feel compassion blend,
Joyfully toward thee turning,
In thy arms my luck I mend.


Precious love as thine receiving,
I cannot Occasion scold.

Played she off on thee her thieving,
What a booty thence I hold!

Wherefore be the talk of plunder? Yield thee of free choice to me; I'll believe - would gladly wonderYes 'tis I have stolen thee.

What so little cost thee giving
Brings thee lordly recompense;
My repose, my wealth of living,
Give I blithely, take it hence.

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