O LOVE, tell me what is Thy nature, that out of my kingdom of pride,
Thou canst ravish my soul and canst hold it, and keep it enslaved at Thy side;
Who knows of Thy infinite wisdom, who knows what Thy lovers have borne
When madmen the world has proclaimed them and cast them derision and scorn?
To drink of my blood I am thirsting, to shed it abroad like a sea,
To sacrifice all am I seeking, to die as a victim for Thee.
My heart through the anguish of loving has swooned ’neath the load of its grief,
Come thou with thy magic, O music, and give to my spirit relief.
Like Ayub I sit in the ashes o’erwhelmed by the wrath of the skies,
Yet out of the night of my sorrow shall hope like the morning arise:
To the desolate mountains, like Ferhad, by sorrow and longing possessed,
I have wandered with pain and with yearning, with hope and despair in my breast.
Yet, Makhfi, unveiled is thy secret, abroad all thy passion is told:
Who saw not the beauty of Yusuf when he in the market was sold?