Had well achieved his own creative end,
And in his work must soon be manifest,
Compassing thus my duty to my friend,

One tranquil, sultry night I rode away
Till far behind the purple hills were dim,
Exulting in my spirit, "Thus I leave
Her to her fate, and my revenge to him!"

Swiftly he struck, her lord; the body lay
With hacked-off breasts, dishonoured, in the Pass.
Months later, riding lonely through the gorge,
I saw it still, among the long-grown grass.

It was well done; my soul is satisfied.
Friendship is sweet, and Love is sweeter still,
But Vengeance has a savour all its own--
A strange delight--well known to those who kill.

Such was the story Afzul told to me,
While wood-fires crackled in the evening breeze,
And blows on hammered tent-pegs stirred the air
Sweet with the fragrance from the Sinjib trees.

Tent-like, above, up-held by jagged peaks,
The heavy purple of the tranquil sky
Shed its oft-broken promises of peace,
While twinkling stars bemocked the worn-out lie!