XXIV: It is the sweet spring time, and I…

It is the sweet spring time, and I am separated from my beloved!
Alas! alas! that thou passest away, O spring, without her!

Both the hills and the dales weep at the lover's state forlorn--
They are not from melted snow, those floods, that from the mountains flow.

It is the fire of wounded hearts, that hath enveloped the trees on the hills;
Hence, dense black smoke and flame arise, from the fir-tree and the plane.

Dost thou desire to become acquainted with the condition of the bereaved?
Behold then, that crane, which hath become separated from the flock!

It thus appeareth, that the world is a place of mourning and sorrow;
For the parrots have, with loud cries, green vestments donned.

There are no other wailings besides--all are the wails of separation:
Draw near, if thou wouldst hear them from the rebeck's every string!

My disease lesseneth not--indeed, it increaseth every hour:
For God's sake, come speedily, O physician, that I may not die!

One, is death unto opponents--the other, is life unto beloved friends:
I swear, by heaven, that when lovers meet, both are brought about!

What though one still breathe, and is accounted among the living?
When the malady is yet without antidote, give up hopes of the sick.

Of mankind none remain--those that roam about are demons and devils;
Hence, they have no compassion for the agonies of the distressed.

Through love, alas! to this degree, wretched and miserable am I become,
That whether relations or strangers, they look not on Khushhal through shame.