The arch that curves o'er the Beloved's eyes.

MIR.




XXIX.


To whom shall I relate
The weary story of my sorrowful love?
O Friend, this is my fate,
This is the record of the pain thereof.

I prayed in vain to her;
She said--You weary me, I hear thy prayer,
It is thy messenger,
But when it pleads with me I do not care.

I said--Never again
Canst thou forget my faithfulness to thee;
She answered in disdain
--What mean thy love and faithfulness to me?

Life called to me
Telling me earth is full of hope and bliss,
Now undeceived I see
How foolish I to seek a world like this.