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Where has he gone, my dearest
friend,
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My heart's mainstay, my lord of love,
-
That accomplished soul, my garland of pearls ?
-
-
I moved fast, but arrived nowhere
-
At nightfall. The goal was far away,
-
And my exuberant youth was gone !
-
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Autumn winds left me distraught,
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With silent blackbirds and withered flowers.
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O, where is my flowering spring ?
-
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Chasing him, my feet were sore,
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My youth in bloom was blown away.
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How cruel to leave me desolate !
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With a passion that gripped me, body and soul,
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I got the headiest wine, drank long and deep.
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But where is that fine intoxication gone ?
-
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The faith which I avowed till now,
-
I now recant, with no one prompting me.
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O, what happened to my wisdom at this stage ?
-
-
When Mahjoor is seen no more,
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The wild rose will ask the hyacinth:
Where is that warm indulgent soul ?