I kill you with my eyelids; I am Natarsa, the Panjabie, the pitiless."

_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._



GHAZAL OF SAYYID AHMAD

My heart is torn by the tyranny of women very quietly;
Day and night my tears are wearing away my cheeks very quietly.

Life is a red thing like the sun setting very quietly;
Setting quickly and heavily and very quietly.

If you are to buy heaven by a good deed, to-day the market is open;
To-morrow is a day when no man buys,
And the caravan is broken up very quietly.

The kings are laughing and the slaves are laughing; but for your sake
_Sayyid Ahmad_ is walking and mourning very quietly.

_From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century)._



GHAZAL, IN LAMENT FOR THE DEAD, OF PIR MUHAMMAD

The season of parting has come up with the wind;
My girl has hollowed my heart with the hot iron of separation.