FRIENDS had I, many friends, who shared with me

Days glad and sad,

But mine they are no more, I am cut free

From all I had.

Dust falls within the cup of Kaikobad

And King Jamshid,

Nor recks the world if they were sad or glad,

Or what they did.

Only to-day have we, and through the sand,

With feet that tire,

We march, but never reach the promised land

Of heart’s desire.

I follow on where Wisdom’s feet have led,

And firmly hold,

The while this hard and thorny path I tread,

Her garment’s fold.

How many hearts, O Love, thy sword hath slain,

And yet will slay!

They bless thee, nor to God will they complain

At Judgment Day.

When in the mosque to seek thine idol there

Thou wendest, may

Thy steps fall gently, Makhfi, lest thou scare

The birds away.