English
Number 14
Memories of you fill the corners of my eye and heart;
every room of my being has become a camp for your image.
My heart is tighter than the knot of your curls;
your sharp nail never untied my tangle.
Through clinging to the body, I am at the mercy of fate;
my soul lies like a slaughtered thing, writhing in the blood of the flesh.
Do not stop searching just because I keep to my corner;
my shore was raised by the hands of whirlpools.
The rawness of knowledge still holds him in its fire;
our wise man never understood madness through reason.
A sweet tongue leads you astray, alas;
still, I wish you never learned what is in my heart.
Desire cannot reach the place where I now stand;
thought has not been allowed into my dwelling.
It is no fault of his that he feels free of me;
in his heedlessness he has not even thought of himself.
I have heard my killer still thinks of paying my blood price;
he has not yet rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
I watered my own crop from the stream of patience and calm;
but when will Khizr's long life ever ripen as my harvest?
Beyond stealing his own heart away with a single flirtatious glance,
you and God: tell me, what other crime did my heartless love commit?
Though on his path all thought is futile,
my futile thoughts still travel the true road.
Except the friend whose love has rooted itself in my soul,
I tore out everything else that had sprouted from the clay of my being.
No one steals a taste of life from my bitterness;
my deadly poison carries sugar as a gift to Egypt.
The one who always bit his lip with a sweet smile,
how used he has grown to the insistence of my begging.
The world has filled with my scattered, raving talk;
my chains are enough for every maddened heart.
Now that our Mirza Saeed is alone,
how well it turned out that Fayyaz left my heart.