Long have I known that it was thy design
    To burn my soul outright;
O may at least the happy fate be mine
    To be the Tavern light!

Zafar.

XLIII.

Mine eyes were shut
    And yet I saw the shining vision gleam;
Now that mine eyes are opened, know I not
    Was it a thought that held me—­or a dream?

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,
I have my cherished pain,
I have my rankling love that knows no end,
And need no other friend. 
I yearned with all my heart to hold her fast,
She laughed, and fled, and passed! 
Lakhs of enchantments, scores of spells I wove,
But useless was my love. 
I would have given my life to make her stay,
She went away, away, she went away. 
Though I effaced myself in deed and thought
And brought myself to naught,
The dark and sundering curtain hangs between
I cannot pierce the screen. 
And still I know behind the veil she hides,
    And naught besides
In all this changing Universe abides!

Zafar.

XLV.

That I should find her after weary years,
And that mine eyes should keep from happy tears,—­
    That is not possible, this is not possible.

If she should come after these many days,
And if my wondering eyes forget to gaze—­
    That is not possible, this is not possible.

Sometimes I long to kiss my idol’s face,
Sometimes to clasp her in my wild embrace—­
    That is not possible, this is not possible.

How can I let her seek my rival’s door,
How can I bear the friends I loved before—­
    That is not possible, this is not possible.

O Zafar, does she bid me to return,
And dare I, for I tremble and I burn—­
    That is not possible, this is not possible.

Zafar.

XLVI.

Whence did the yearning of the soul arise,
The longing to attain the Heavenly Sight? 
    Before what mortal eyes
Was manifested the Eternal Light?