Sweet Breath of the Morning Breeze

Sweet breath of the morning breeze, you have come from my love's side, welcome! Caravan of the night, what news did you hear of the dawn? Solomon's bird, what word from Sheba? Is my beloved still angry, or is there now some talk of being pleased with me? Have you come with peace or with quarrel? Should I step forward in fear or in hope? If once more you pass by the street where my love lives, messenger of the morning wind, tell her only a breath of life is left in this weakened body; how long can a lifeless form endure? All those kind words, those vows, those promises, you did no good, for you kept none of them. Yet if a time of reunion should come, peace will make me forget the whole ordeal. Until the hand of death reaches my throat, I will not let go of the hem of your robe. In truth, no one is a real friend who forgets a friend in times of trouble. To grow weary in the search for you is itself a comfort, to bear the pain in hope of a cure. I cannot lift my head like the harp, even if, like the drum, my skin is torn along the neck. Each dawn I breathe a sigh of love, and the next day I hear it spoken openly by everyone. The tale of my pain has filled the whole world; whom does a familiar breath fail to touch? If Saadi's cry reaches the mountain, the mountain will wail back in the voice of an echo.