That for aye committeth such ravages loving hearts upon!
It scattereth and separateth kind friends in all directions:
O my God! let the night of separation be always brief!
Since it thus, so ruthlessly, its arrows dischargeth,
The abode of the lover only an empty cavern remaineth.
For his poor heart there will be no relief save weeping;
He, like a widow sigheth, with raiment wet with tears.
His grief for the beloved rendeth the garment of reserve:
The torrent of his tears furroweth the channels of his eyes.
Wherefore should not the afflicted heart weep flesh and blood,
When the tears of bereavement form a lake therein?
Since separation giveth not to the lover so much respite,
The blood of his heart gusheth forth in streams from his eyes.
He will have no hope of finding relief in any direction:
His very frame becometh a load of anguish to bear.
If woe shall afflict, and press upon thee, O Aḥmad Shāh!
In all sincerity and love, flee thou thy God unto?
Translated By H.G. Raverty,