Where has my childhood gone, where are its placid years?

Where has my childhood gone, where are its placid years?
For cruel youth hath brought passion and bitter tears.

To the Creator now I from the dust complain--
Beauty, the thing he made, brings with it only pain.

Long I desired and dreamed, waiting with eager breath,
But ere she came to me, Fate sent the sleep of Death.

To God as servitor I my devotion gave,
Now Love hath taken me, bound me to be his slave.

I, Muztar, die with grief, yearning unsatisfied,
Still hangs the purdah's fold I cannot draw aside,
Nor lift the needless veil woven of shame and pride.