Faithful and kind a friend I hoped that thou wouldst prove to me;
Who would have thought so cruel and fierce a tyrant in thee to see?
Thou who the newly oped rose art of the Garden of Paradise,
That every thorn and thistle thou lov'st—how can it fitting be?
I curse thee not, but of God Most High, Our Lord, I make this prayer—
That thou may'st love a pitiless one in tyranny like to thee.
In such a plight am I now, alack! that the curser saith to his foe:
"Be thy fortune dark and thy portion black, even as those of Mihri!"