Long to myself I said--It will be well,
When I can see her, I will tell my pain:
Now she is here, what is there left to tell?
No griefs remain.

Faithless she is to me, and pitiless,
Despotic and tyrannical she is,
I looked for love, I looked for tenderness,
I leant on vain impossibilities.

I listened to thy voice that stole to me
Across the curtain where thou satst apart,
Desire came like a restless ecstasy,
A sorcery that fell upon my heart.

When I had burst my prison, and was free,
I saw no fetters held me, and I found,
O Zafar, that these chains that shackle me
Are ties of self wherewith my soul is bound.

ZAFAR.




XLIV.


I care not if no rest nor peace remain,