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A fire burns at the bottom of my heart, For love has conquered me, and I am now His hostage and his prisoner. My soul Is torn out from my body, and sweet sleep Keeps far aloof from my tired eyelids' need. 'Tis Aycha causes this, the pretty one. With blackest eyes, Aycha the pure, from whom I'm parted now, whose name is finest gold. Why? why? Oh, tell me, El Mannoubyya.
Pour him a cup of wine." By thee he came Unto perfection's acme, step by step. Our Lord, all-powerful, gave to thee this power. These are thy merits, fairest citizen! To whom God gave strength irresistible. O beauty with enchanting eyes, Aycha, Our queen.
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