X: Through sorrow at the poor-spiritedness of the Afghans

Through sorrow at the poor-spiritedness of the Afghans,
I have abandoned greatness, and taken meanness in hand.

Had this much even been gained in the matter, it were good--
Had I wreaked upon the recreant my full meed of revenge.

From the time when the jewel of my honour became broken,
I have not left, for a moment, my eyes free from tears.

That pearl came not into my hands, after all my trouble,
And, therefore, my boat I have drawn up on the sea-shore.

This waist of mine, that in resistance was a mountain,
Through chagrin and disappointment, unto the Mughal I bent.

But let good fortune once commence again to aid me,
That it may relieve me from the weight of affliction's load

This misery of mine is not to be compared to any other grief,
Although I may have experienced a thousand woes and sorrows.

The back of fortune, and. the world's, both are turned upon me;
Hence, through sorrow, I turned my face from all, the Mughal unto.

Were it in my power, or were it mine own free-will,
I would not, even two paces, towards them advance.

I am obliged to hearken to crooked words from the mouths of those,
Unto whom, in my lifetime, I never before a straight one gave.

The outcries of my own people, and of strangers, affect me,
Notwithstanding I used, even from a whisper, to screen myself.

I am now ashamed of those proud and boastful words,
That, before every one, were wont to issue from my lips.

A hundred reproaches and indignities are heaped upon me,
Who ever guarded myself from detraction and reproach.

'Tis for this reason the elephant streweth dust upon his head,
That I made him acquainted with Khushhal's sorrows.