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A WASTED LIFE.
LIFE passes by, a caravan of shadows,
Leaving no track or voice upon its way;
Only the torch of beauty, where it flashes,
Spreads in the world disaster and dismay.
Ah, the long months I followed after Mahmil,
In the dim desert guideless and astray;
Spring changed to autumn. Never on the rose-branch
Carolled my heart-bird an enraptured lay.
Farhad, his pick amid the mountains plying,
Drew from the rock a sigh at every stroke;
Makhfi, for all the flames her heart is flinging,
Sees not arise an answering wreath of smoke.