From Whomsoe'er I've Sought for Troth but Bitterest

From whomsoe'er I've sought for troth but bitterest disdain I've seen;
Whome'er within this faithless world I've trusted, all most vain I've seen

To whomsoe'er I've told my woes, in hope to find some balm therefor,
Than e'en myself o'erwhelmed and sunk in deeper, sadder pain I've seen.

From out mine aching heart no one hath driven cruel grief away,
That those my friends of pleasure's hour affection did but feign I've seen.

Although I've clutched its mantle, life hath turned away its face from me;
And though I faith from mirror hoped, there persecuted swain I've seen.

At gate of hope I set my foot, bewilderment held forth its hand,
Alas! whene'er hope's thread I've seized, in hand the serpent's train I've seen.

A hundred times the Sphere hath shown to me my darksome fortune's star;
Whene'er my horoscope I've cast, but blackest, deepest stain I've seen.

Fuzûlî, blush not then, should I from mankind turn my face away;
For why? From all to whom I've looked, but reason sad to plain I've seen.