III: I would relate unto thee the wondrous works…

I would relate unto thee the wondrous works of the ravishers of the heart,
But I know naught concerning it--they abstract it from my breast.

I will bear whatever cruelty the beloved may heap upon me:
God forbid that any one recreant unto love should be found!

I obtain no relief, even though in her service my life I lay down;
For my heart still reproacheth me, that I have not done enough.

There is no such cool water, whereby my thirst shall be quenched;
And I shall thus wander, with breast on fire, till time shall end.

I shed floods of tears, but she showeth no sympathy towards me:
Let not any one, O God! a mistress have, so cruel and unkind!

This also, both high and low, great and small, will understand--
When doth any one, without being ailing, unto the physician go?

The afflictions of the sick they increase: there is no cure for them;
For there are no skilful physicians remaining: they have all left the land!

Happy are the whole and the healthy, that need not medicine;
For those, with this malady afflicted, obtain no ease to their pain.

"I have meted unto every one his destiny," so the Kur'an saith:
Who then shall change the lot HE unto Khwajah Muhammad assigned?