IX: Since I am ever hopeful of meeting thee…

Since I am ever hopeful of meeting thee, either to day or to-morrow,
Uselessly, in this insane idea, passeth my sweet life away.

With cries and supplications, I seek it to-day, but find it not;
For the soldiery of separation destroy the period of my joy.

The tree of prosperity yielded not to me the fruit of my desires:
In wails and lamentations, unjustly, my body I wearied make.

In the beginning, when the tree of affection was created,
Its innate properties brought forth absence's bitter fruit.

I was wont, unconsciously, to eat of the fruit of separation,
When, in the garden, I planted affection's tender sprout.

In disjunction, O friends! I perceive no fault whatever:
The heart, this misfortune permitteth, when acquainted therewith.

With the sword of separation, He cleaveth asunder, at last,
The heart of him, whom He, of a lovely face, enamoured maketh.

The game of absence, He at that time made so absorbing,
When, in the world, He thus the mart of affection thronged.

THE SEPARATED mentioned not, unto a soul, the secret of love;
But, in the alley of his beloved, the world humiliated him.