Number 20

No heart but ours can welcome grief; no mirror but ours reflects the darkness. The brand of madness will never quit my head, not until the grief of loving you is satisfied with my chest. For the sorrow of having spent one single night with you until dawn, my grudge against fate will never leave my heart. Union is good when it matches the size of my longing; what can a single glance do for my ancient, aching desire? Thanks to the fortune of love, every day of my week was a working Saturday; in my Friday there is no holiday from the lesson. The heavens are settling accounts, deeply afraid of me; my woolen cloak of poverty would make the world too small for them. Even if eternal union were betrothed to me, Fayyaz, it could never make up for, never erase, my grief of last night.