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Love, what are you? Who are you to steal my soul
from the fortress of my pride and take it for yourself?
The world scorns your lovers, says that they are mad.
I wish to bleed oceans of blood, sacrifice all, die for you.
Anguished, my heart swoons beneath the weight of grief.
Come to me, Music: work your magic, soothe my spirit.
I sit in ashes, overcome by the vengeance of the skies.
Yet hope arises like morning light out of night’s sorrow.
Possessed by longing, I wander in desolate mountains.
Makhfi, you stumble on with pain, desire, hope, despair.
Still, your secret is revealed, all your passion is unveiled.
Everyone sees the beauty of the slave brought to market.
