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Don’t look at me in anger, Beloved.
My heart lies at your feet, already
vanquished by your sorcery,
your narcissus eyes.
You arrive: my heart-strings hum.
These chords, now knotted,
have quivered to your touch.
I have longed for you, lamenting.
You who sleep in peace don’t know
the trouble Love can bring, the days
when sorrow never ends, the weary
nights that drag on and on.
Mecca lies in which direction?
I’ll take this place to make my prayer.
What medicine will cure my malady?
Remedies for grief are all around.
Love, where are you leading? Where
is this caravan going? You race past
vast deserts on foot, you make the
longest, most improbable journey.
Look at my fate. I’m such a loser, Love’s
never told me his secrets. He’s told them
to the privileged, lucky ones who dwell
close to his innermost shrine.
