my lines are all dust, o saqi, it is just your merciful eye that remains
your tavern is replete, but here, life very little remains
people ask of my beloved’s arrow-like glance, but what can i tell them?
sense and awareness have long been lost, just that ache in the heart remains
if roses and tulips grow upon my grave come autumn, why the surprise?
i had once run my hands through her hair, and the effect remains
i have sought for you in every direction, lord, searched each corner of the heart
now, no other option appears to me, only the street of death remains
no tongue in harmony present in the gathering, all have travelled beyond this world
for the worship of Goddess Poetry, now here only Sifar remains
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