O Sovereign, forge a divine intercession that my heart’s companion may return unharmed, liberating me from this grievous plight.

Impart unto me the dust from the trail of my beloved’s passage, that I might adorn my worldly eyes with it as if it were the darkest kohl.

Mourn, for yon visage, those tresses, that countenance, and that very form have besieged my path from every quarter!

This day it tastes of bitterness in thy grasp; what avails lamentation and tears on the morrow, should I be reduced to ashes?

O ye, who in mere words profess love, seeking to ensnare it with your tongues, between us there lies no cause for dispute. Proceed on your way towards virtue, in tranquility, and take leave.

O dervish, raise not your voice against the sword borne by comrades. Such is their way, that they would fell a man, and then from the fallen, demand a tribute for their toil!

Consign your cloak to the flames. For what virtue lies in furrowed brows, drawn tight as a bowstring? It but ravages peace, scatters it to the winds, leaving naught in its wake for devotion.

Nay, I shed not tears for your aloofness or your severity. The tribulation of noble spirits is naught but a token of their grace and largesse.

Hafiz shall not desist from singing of those locks. This bondage stretches forth unto the Day of Reckoning!

**