The Heart-Ravisher departed; and hint to those heart-gone made not: Of the companion of the city; and of the friend of the journey, recollection He made not.
Either, my fortune abandoned the path of love; Or He, by the highway of Tarikat, journeying made not.
I said: “Perchance, by weeping, I may make His heart kind.” Impression on the hard stone, the drops of rain, made not.
Although, through grief, the wing and the feather of my heart became broken, Go out of my head, the crude madness of being a lover it made not.
Every one kissed Thy face who saw my eye! Without value, the work that our eye did, it made not.
I standing, like the candle, to make my life a sacrifice for Him: Like the morning-breeze, passing by me, He made not.
زمین
