A LONE upon the housetops to the North
I turn and watch the lightnings in the sky —
The glamour of thy footsteps in the North.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die.

Below my feet the still bazar is laid —
Far, far below the weary camels lie —
The camels and the captives of thy raid.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!

My father's wife is old and harsh with years,
And drudge of all my father's house am I —
My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!