XVI: Show thou no yearnings for the greatness of…

Show thou no yearnings for the greatness of this world;
For many tribes, at death's wail, have desolate become!

Those dear friends, who were like spring's flowers unto,
In the sultry heats of autumn, grew withered, and decayed.

They are all now prostrate fallen, the dank earth upon,
Who, with turbans placed so jauntily, rode their fiery steeds.

And they who were wont upon the couches of the fair to lie--
Of their deaths, many anniversaries have come and passed away.

Those youths and fair maidens are now buried in the dust,
Whose hands were still more soft than even velvet itself.

The excellent of their time have passed from the world away,
Around whom their disciples gathered their discourses to hear.

Upon what wound of mine will the physicians salve apply?
For, with the diamonds of separation I am all covered with wounds.

When I call to mind the pleasant meetings of friends so dear,
I, Khwajah Muhammad weep, but not for any crime.