Torn and Pierced My Heart Has Been

Torn and pierced my heart has been by thy scorn and tyranny's blade;
Rent by the scissors of grief for thee is the robe that my patience arrayed.

Like the mihrab of the Ka'ba, as shrine where in worship to turn,
Thy ward would an angel take, if thy foot-print there he surveyed.

They are pearls, O mine eye! thou sheddest her day-bright face before;
Not a tear is left — these all are dried by the beams by her cheek displayed.