The Feet of the Heart

The heart's feet are stuck knee-deep in mud on the street of your love; take courage and stand with me, for this is hard work. I don't know what this mad heart is after, since it always leans toward my own wandering and confusion. Even Mahmud's mighty elephant would collapse if it dreamed of the heavy load your pain lays on my heart. O wandering heart, how long will you speak? Say nothing, for in that street a hundred thousand feet are stuck in the mud. My companion is a sigh, my confidant is sorrow in the days of youth; what a bitter yield to reap in the season of joy and springtime. On my own I pour out words and weep bitterly; surely the beggar's tears are the only confidant of the exiled and lonely. Mohyi, if you imagine you have walked the path of truth in this life, know for certain you have not; it is only an empty thought.