In the Manner of a Love Song

The blame falls on my own eyes for wronging me; they called me into love's wilderness, and I lost my way. A traveler through love's valley hopes for no escape. Peace be upon the ones who dwell in my land, my beloved friends. Whenever the full moon rises, my longing bursts into flame at the memory of the devouring moons within my heart. Is this the crescent of the festival, or beneath a veil do the bright foreheads of my love gleam like new moons? My sighs rose above the sound of their caravan songs that morning when they set out and the camels bore them away. It is as if my eyes had made a vow, once they were gone, never to stop weeping in grief, and they have kept it. I followed my passion until I strayed from the right path, and this suffering is the punishment for my straying. My friends, my enemies gloat over what has befallen me. Shall my enemies rejoice while you are my friends? If my ordeal and my humiliation come by your command, then I bless my ordeal and I accept my disgrace. In the evening, at the memory of you, my tears pour down, yet a thirst is in me that no flood can ever quench. Can someone like me be kept from clinging to love, when love was molded into my soul before I was even formed? The traces of my patience: the rain of sorrow keeps wearing them away until they faded and crumbled to nothing. My heart wanted nothing but to keep away from love, but my eyes lured it with deceit and led it astray. Have you not seen me in the garden of love? Whenever it withered, the clouds of my eyes rained and made it fresh again. Was the killing of Muslims not a crime? May God curse the arrows of the tribe; how did they think such bloodshed lawful? And here is the very soul of Su'da, sending you the first greeting, carried to you by the morning breeze wherever it may reach.