Draw aside thy veil, or thy lover will of sorrow and grief expire!
With breast consumed by passion, I ever follow in search of thee;
But thy abode is neither on earth, nor in the heavens to be found.
I will wander throughout the world, as a Santon or a Darwesh;
Or I will saturate my garments with the flood of my tears.
O fragrant zephyr of the morn! news of her bring thou to me!
Make thou my heart to smile the parterre of flowers within!
When thus I weep and bewail, my object, in so doing, is this,
That my heart may a nightingale be in the rose-bower of thy face.
The heart, at the depredations of thy beauty, lamenteth,
Like as the nightingale’s heart bewaileth when autumn arriveth.
In this world, the heart will not from spoliation be exempt;
Thou consumest hearts—a wondrous fire in thy nose jewel is.
The world’s censures and reproaches he taketh not to heart:
The lover standeth in the plain, and raiseth his voice on high.
With all her tyranny and injustice, I would not abandon love,
Were I, Aḥmad Shāh, with the powers of endurance prepared.
Translated By H.G. Raverty,