When the King came to his tower
the fair one came to him and said-O King

Neither the wives of thy viziers beneath thy gaze like opening buds
nor the far-exiled women weeping their barbarian woods
betray the unknown men who turn by turn untie my arms

To suffer far from thee is hard to the soul in flower,
the soul with calling out in vain is languishing;
this casket of sweets of thine, my body, take it for thyself;
bless with thy hands the forehead I incline

The King made answer from the tower:

This dream of thy coming to reach thy short lips in caress
all the souls of my being were waiting for it in festal dress;
for thy lips and for thy dreams escorted hither in state
spread are the carpets and the lamps are lighted and the vows await.
why wouldst thou tarry in lost laughs, where didst thou sleep?

When the King slept upon the tower, the fair sad lady shivered.

If thou didst know not it is errantry and truce
love's moment swift that soothes the sting to sleep
I know that it must be unique and as in dream
as towards the shadows paled of death I drift.