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If the veil fell away from my heart
and revealed my story to the world
roses would burn with envy,
comparing their light to mine.
Even though a fire of sighs
leaps from my heart all day long,
misfortune scatters the flames.
My torch remains unlit.
I make my escape, fly to the woods.
The Hunter follows me through the forest.
I go to the lake and mountains for solitude.
Love keeps stalking me.
The sickness of love has addled my brain.
I have lived with longing all my life.
Why should I try to run from sorrow?
It’s family to me.
Unhappiness is my house. I’ve furnished it
with sadness. How could the radiance
of love come to live with me now,
within this place of pain?
Look: The pages of the book of my life
are blotched with sin and conflict,
as if all the world’s misery were always
running after me.
Makhfi, this cup offers no exaltation,
no relief from pain. It’s filled to the brim
with tears of blood flowing from eyes
that have lost their vision.
