it is unclear the fate of the sorrow-filled heart what will be
tell me, the end of this love for the indifferent beauty, what will be
her memory is enough to endanger one's life
if one were to meet her suddenly, what will be?
he who is habituated to your arrow-like glances since childhood
for that young man, the fear of the gallows, what will be?
when every bud of the heart has been burned by the fire of separation
however beautiful the spring this year, the profit what will be?
the lover who waits for that ravishing beauty, death!
for him, the wait for any other beloved, what will be?
stones do not melt, however the flames might rage
profess your love time and again - the point what will be?
in your own lane have you not earned enough disrepute, Sifar?
if you were to wander into her street, what will be?
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