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I HOLD thee ever in my heart; absent, Mu'tamid prays
That endless as his tearful nights may be thy pleasant days,
Impatient of the bridle, 'tis but thy small hands may guide me;
My desire is all a longing till I see thee stand beside me.
Ah, love of mine, the days increase, forget not Ibn Abbad.
Dear name, I trace it on my heart for ever — Itimad.