Number 4

Leaving the beloved's homeland is like doomsday itself; and fate has always handed me my share of such days. What does someone sleeping in comfort know of how a person aching with separation spends the night, especially a stranger far from home? I leave in bitter defeat, and there is no chance I can set foot again in my love's city because of my rival. My father kept urging me to be patient, saying, 'Son, enough of these disorderly days.' I answered this way: 'Father, my pain will not yield to any cure, no matter how hard the doctor tries.' Do not expect repentance from me, for even in the mosque I would rather listen to the sound of the harp than the preacher's sermon. You sent me to school, but it did no good; my fingernails were worn down by the teacher's beating stick, yet my heart still strums its own tune. Even now the scent of love rises from my dust, though in the grave my body falls apart, joint by joint. Saadi does not set out on this journey by his own choice; strange cruelty is no surprise from such a strange age.