Number 12: Perhaps Addressed to Judge Saeed

You, whose tender glance, with every breath, pours another life into the shape of longing. When you smile like early spring, you spread it freely, and turn the face of desire into a blooming garden. When the blade of your brow flashes in anger, you bring autumn to the rose's bright-colored garden of a face. You drift toward your enemies like the scent of a rose to a thorn, and from your friends you turn away, aloof, like the morning breeze. I won't say it myself: in the ways of friendship, how you sit with strangers, and how you treat me? But let me read you two lines from a peerless poet, in the hope that you might take them to heart. I have one piece of advice for you, enemy of my heart; I wish you'd slip up and lend it an ear. Don't sell your friend in the marketplace of enemies; I fear that in the end you'll lose by this deal.