XXIV.

THE WIDOW.

I call on Death, for Life is my distress, And I myself a load of weariness Weighing upon myself. Helpless am I; Dared I to weep, then never would run dry The fountains of my grief: I cannot speak: Even the occupation that I seek Goads me and wearies me. A jungle drear This world and all its moving crowds appear, And I the loneliest of all things on Earth, Yea, lonely in the household of my birth.

Tired am I of my suffering through the years, Even as mine eyes are wearied of their tears.

Spring comes again and brings the cooling breeze, And Autumn with the rain among the trees, Fair Summer with its moonlit nights of gold, And Winter with its sweet and gentle cold; These come and go, with morn and even-fall, How can I tell how I have pa.s.sed them all?

Well, I have borne them all!

Hope gleamed awhile, but fled unsatisfied, The flower sprang up, but drooped and fruitless died: The silver bow of Ede shone above all, But never came the looked-for Festival: I saw the splendour of the season wane, Never the benediction of the rain Fell on my parched heart: the thunder loud Pealed from the bosom of the darkened cloud, But never came the long-desired rain: I sought the fruit upon the tree in vain, The thorn smote deep into my heart instead: Across the desert wastes of sands I sped Seeing the silver watercourses gleam, But it was all a vision and a dream, And thirsting in the desert I was left Lone and bereft.

HALI.

XXV.

Like silver torrents flow thy words to me, But ah--I have no voice to answer thee.

My heart thy words have burnt with whips of fire, Do they not burn thy lips, O Heart's Desire?

Thy promises are broken every day, Yet--See my faithfulness!--I hear you say.

Candle-like wastes my body all these days My flame-like tongue endures to sing thy praise.

O Hasan, I have spoke and sighed and sung, Yet never from my heart my tale was wrung, My secret grief can never find a tongue.

HASAN.

XXVI.

I cannot rise to follow her, Here in the dust is my abode, For I am but her foot-print left Lying forgotten in the road.

Where are repose and patience gone?

Where is my honour, held so fair?

All these are naught to me--I dwell In the black chambers of Despair!

INSHA.

XXVII.

How can I win that Hidden One Who sits within the secret place?

For even in my very dreams She wears the veil upon her face.

What heart is there in all the world Can bear thy cruel tyranny?

Keep then this broken heart of mine That thus thou mayst remember me!

JURAT.

XXVIII.

What kind of comforter art thou to me?

What help and solace in calamity?

No wound is there upon my bruised heart But thou hast touched to make it sting and smart!

But yet, Beloved One, I ask in pain When is the hour when thou wilt come again?

My soul cries out to thee in bitter need --When wilt thou come--or wilt thou come indeed?

O Saki, do not pa.s.s my goblet by, Although the feast is spread its lip is dry.

Be careful, O my tears, lest you should tell The world my secret that you know too well.

O Sorrow, in thy tangled paths I go, The Kaaba's gateway I no longer know, But bend my head wherever I see rise The arch that curves o'er the Beloved's eyes.

MIR.

XXIX.

To whom shall I relate The weary story of my sorrowful love?

O Friend, this is my fate, This is the record of the pain thereof.

I prayed in vain to her; She said--You weary me, I hear thy prayer, It is thy messenger, But when it pleads with me I do not care.

I said--Never again Canst thou forget my faithfulness to thee; She answered in disdain --What mean thy love and faithfulness to me?

Life called to me Telling me earth is full of hope and bliss, Now undeceived I see How foolish I to seek a world like this.

MIR SOZ.