SOULS that have harboured grief look askance on frolic and laughter:

Theirs is a joy that is hidden under surroundings of woe.

Live in the hope of reunion, and though your existence be lonely,

Still you can live, though life totter and reel to its base.

Counsellor, chide not my weeping. In tears is the dew that refreshes,

Glad is the garden of longing when fed with the water of tears.

Banquets are void of delight if ungraced by the smile of the Dear One,

Yea, though the winecup be Jam’s and the wine be the water of life.

Makhfi, be patient awhile and endure thy loneliness, knowing

He who endures to the end shall inherit the guerdon of joy.