onged。
I was meant to be among the pages of this illustrated manuscript that I
sadly heard was pleted today。 Unfortunately； on a cold winter’s day； the
Tatar courier who was carrying me as he crossed a rocky mountain pass was
ambushed by thieves。 First they beat the poor Tatar； then they robbed him and
raped him in a manner befitting thieves before mercilessly killing him。 As a
result； I know nothing about the page I’ve fallen from。 My request is that you
look at me and ask： “Were you perhaps meant to provide shade for Mejnun
disguised as a shepherd as he visited Leyla in her tent？” or “Were you meant to
fade into the night； representing the darkness in the soul of a wretched and
hopeless man？” How I would’ve wanted to plement the happiness of two
lovers who fled from the whole world； traversing oceans to find solace on an
island rich with birds and fruit！ I would’ve wanted to shade Alexander during
the final moments of his life on his campaign to conquer Hindustan as he died
from a persistent nosebleed brought on by sunstroke。 Or was I meant to
symbolize the strength and wisdom of a father offering advice on love and life
to his son？ Ah； to which story was I meant to add meaning and grace？
Among the brigands who’d killed the messenger and taken me with them；
dragging me headlong from mountain to mountain and city to city； there was
a thief who occasionally understood my worth； and had the refinement to
realize that looking at the drawing of a tree is more pleasant than looking at a
tree； but because he didn’t know to which story I belonged； he quickly ti