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.