O ask not frigid Piety to dwell
In the same house with Youth and warm Desire;
It were as idle as if one should tell
Water to be a comrade of the Fire.

O say not only that the Loved One left
My lonely heart, and fled beyond recall;
But I of rest and patience am bereft,
And losing Her I am deprived of all.

Take heed, O Hunter, though within thy net
Thou hold this bird, my soul, with many bands,
I struggle sore, for Freedom lures me yet,
And may escape from out thy cruel hands.

YAKRANG.




XLII.


Thou shouldst have given to me the robe and crown
And made me king of kings,
Or dressed me in the tattered darwesh gown,
Poorest of earthly things.

O that I were thy fool to do thy will,
Simple and led by thee!