Ghazal 25

If you dropped your veil in the middle of the city, you would send a thousand devout believers straight to their punishment. Who could bear to look upon your blessed beauty, when you steal hearts like this even from behind a veil? Not for a single moment do I stop thinking of you. Now that you have conquered the city, do not let it fall to ruin. You bound my heart with a curl of your hair; now that you have twisted that hair, my fortunate one, do not turn your face away. The story of my suffering sounds trivial to your ears, for you do not know the thirsty one's state, you well-watered rose. If a lamp dies out, what does the morning breeze care? If the linen burns, why should the moonlight grieve? I gave you my blessing, and even if you curse me it is easy, for with sweet-lipped ones both question and answer are a pleasure. Where are you, you who reproach and mock me? You stand safe on the shore while I am drowning in the flood. What place is there for scolding a captive bound in the trap of grief? If you can lend a hand, then help. Though I cannot bear to be parted from my friend's face, I endure it out of necessity, the way a fish endures being out of water. Yet again you claim to keep away from love, Sadi, saying you'll give your heart to no one: every claimant is a liar.