XIX: They, who were enamoured of the red roses…

They, who were enamoured of the red roses of the parterre,
Have now the nightingales of grief and sorrow become.

With cries and lamentations thou grievest for them;
Since the roses have all been scattered by autumn's dread blast.

They, who were then intoxicated with the flowers' perfume,
Have now become requited by separation's dread pangs.

Their pastimes and their laughter were apart from the world:
The world's pleasures and joys became deadly poison to them.

As yet, they had not tasted of union's sweet fruit,
When loving friends became severed in sorrow and grief.

For a few short days, the bliss of conjunction they enjoyed;
But now years of separation have their portion become.

Should they now flee from destiny, they cannot escape;
Since grief is the portion of lovers from the beginning of time.

The physicians of the age, if they are cognizant of much,
How are they thus so ignorant of Khwajah Muhammad's pangs?

With sighs and with groans, I will lament unceasingly;
For I ever long that the hour of my union were come!