(BY EBN ALRAMACRAM)
Lowering as Barkaidy's face
The wintry night came in,
Cold as the music of his bass,
And lengthened as his chin.
Sleep from my aching eyes had fled,
And kept as far apart,
As sense from Ebn Fahdi's head,
Or virtue from his heart.
The dubious paths my footsteps balked,
I slipp'd along the sod,
As if on Jaber's faith I'd walked,
Or on his truth had trod.
At length the rising King of day
Burst on the gloomy wood,
Like Carawash's eye, whose ray
Dispenses every good.