Story No. 8

I remember, in the old days, a friend and I were as close as two almonds in a single shell. Then, suddenly, a separation came. After a while, when he returned, he began to scold me: 'In all that time you never sent a single messenger.' I said: 'It pained me that a messenger's eyes should brighten at the sight of your beauty while I was left out of it.' Old friend, tell me not to repent with mere words, for even a sword could not force me to give this up. I grow jealous that anyone should gaze on you until content, then I catch myself: no, no one could ever have their fill of you.