Ode XLIII: Su'ad is gone, and thy heart

Su'ad is gone, and thy heart lies sick with fever of love ; the freeman's Daughter has left her pledges all unfulfilled.

A young gazelle is she like, unmated, grazing her fill where torrent-channels are green in hollow Haumal or Ud.

That morning we parted, she stood, her tresses fallen unbound, that hung like clusters of black grapes all adown her back :

Her [ruddy mouth] cool and fair, most sweet to kiss, with a row of ordered teeth, not too close, all lustrous, honey to taste.

Yea, many a strong camel, spare of frame, lean, bleeding her pads, have I pushed on without stint to bear me over the wastes ;

I laid this load on her — well she bore it, as but her due — to face a fierce melting heat that burnt like blazing flame :

A desert waterless, wide, wherein is death to be feared — all night unwearied its owls hoot on with never a break.

When she complained of sore travel, this my word in reply : ' Thou shalt not rest till I come to see the face of Mas'ud—

Until I look on the man whose gifts are boundless, his tent open to all who have need, his arm long, praised of all men.

Yea, many men have I heard lauded above all their kind, but never heard of thy like in gracious bountifulness,

Nor yet in temperance, nor in patience when trouble fell — nay, no vain words do I use to tell the Sid of thy fame !

Thy gracious manner is not the grace that stirs men's ire, nor is thy bounty refused to any seeker that comes.

Thou readiest, foremost of all, the goals set up for the best, and thou resemblest thy fathers, high-headed lords of men.

This is my praise for the fair gifts showered by thee on me : mayst thou ne'er cease to be happy and envied by all men !