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n of shame and pride. MUZTAR. XXXV. The fire of love I for my idol know Within my bosom hides, As in the mountain 'neath its crust of snow The flame abides. Long have I yearned in vain to kiss her feet, I lay my weary head Down in the dust, that thus my lips may greet Where she may tread. No wealth have I, but like the moth I live: Since love demands a price, I, like the moth, have but my life to give In sacrifice. How has my bird-like soul been stricken low, Pierced to the very heart! My love has used instead of bolt and bow A deadlier dart. NASIKH. XXXVI. The wound upon my heart glows bright and clear With such a steady and unwavering light That in the darkness I shall have no fear And need no lamp to guide my steps aright. When of the darkness of the grave I hear, The night of death, and all the pangs thereof, I reck not, for one thing alone I fear-- The night of separation from my Love. NASIKH. XXXVII. Shall I or shall I not console my heart And win relief? Or shall I sit in solitude apart Nursing my grief? O hear, while of my life now nearly done Some sparks remain! Soon I may be, who knows, O Cruel One, Speechless with pain. How can I to the fisher speak my thought? Her snares are set, My fish-like heart is by her lashes caught, As in a net. Look on my sorrowful mien, O Love, and tell My hopelessness, None of the manifold troubles that befell Can I express. Fair is the garden, Sauda, to thy view, More fair appears Her dwelling; let me all its ways bedew With happy tears. SAUDA. XXXVIII. I am no singer rapt in ecstasy, Nor yet a sighing listener am I, I am the nightingale that used to sing In joy, but now am mute, remembering. I know the drop within the ocean hides, But know not in what place my soul abides: I cannot read the hidden mystery-- Whence came I, whither go I, what am I. My friends have paid due reverence at my grave, And held my dust as sacred, for I gave My humble life to the Beloved's sword, Killed by her beauty, martyred by her word. I deemed life was tranquillity and rest, I find it but a never-ending quest; And I, who sat in quietude and peace, Toil on a journey that shall never cease. SHAMSHAD. XXXIX. Repent not, for repentance is in vain, And what is done is done; What shouldst thou
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