visions, wandering in dreams!

The hearts of all Thy captive lovers stray
         Hither and thither driven by whims of Thine,
Sometimes within the Kaaba courts to pray,
         Sometimes to worship at the Idols' Shrine.

O Asif, thou hast known such grief and shame,
         Shrinking beneath the cruel scourge of Love,
That all the earth will hail thee with acclaim
         As most courageous of the sons thereof.

XI.

When shall the mocking world withhold its blame,
         When shall men cease to darken thus my name,
                 Calling the love which is my pride, my shame!

O Judge, let me my condemnation see;
         Whose names are written on my death decree?—
                 The names of all who have been friends to me.

What hope to reach the Well-Belovéd's door,
         The dear lost dwelling that I knew of yore;
                 I stumbled once; I can return no more.

The joy of love no heart can feel alone,
         The fire of love at first unseen, unknown,
                 In flames of love from either side is blown.

O Asif, tread thy pathway carefully
         Across this difficult world; for, canst thou see,
                 A further journey is awaiting thee.

XII.

I ask that God in justice punish me
With death, if my love waver or grow less;
         Faithful am I indeed—
How can you comprehend such faithfulness?

To you alone I offer up my heart,
To any other what have I to give?
         No light demand I make,
What answer will you grant that I may live?

If on the last dread Day of Reckoning
I think of you, and in my heart there shine
         The beauty of your face,
God's Beatific Vision shall be mine.

Once I had friends, now none are left to me;
I see none else but you, because my heart
         Has wholly fled to you,
And thus I walk the ways of Earth apart.

I, Asif, am the chief of sinners held,
This dark dishonour will I not deny,
         But glory in my shame;
Where is another sinner such as I?

O changing Wheel of Fate, still let there last
Before our eager eyes, still let there burn,
This vision of the world; when we have passed
         There shall be no return.

I thought that, leaving thee, rest would be mine,
My lost tranquillity I might regain,
But separation brings no anodyne,
         And kills me with its pain.

How can I traffic in Love's busy mart?
Thou hast won from me more than stores of gold;
That I may bargain, give me back the heart
         Thy cruel fingers hold.

O heart desirous, in Love's perilous way
Thy journey take and in his paths abide,
And thou mayst find perchance, lest thou should stray,
         Awaiting thee, a guide.

XIV.

         O Weaver of Excuses, what to thee
Are all the promises that thou hast made,
The truth derided, and the faith betrayed,
                 And all thy perfidy?

         Sometimes thou sayest—Come at eventide:
And when the evening