Alone 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!
