Page:The Diwan of Zeb-un-Nissa.djvu/95



from the spot upon my heart the veil Should fall, and all the world should know my tale,
 * How would the roses burn with envious light
 * Knowing themselves less bright!

Though all the day the leaping fire of sighs May from my fast-consuming heart arise,
 * Winds of mischance so blow and scatter it,
 * My torch is not yet lit.

I leave the world, and to the woods I fly, But in the forest hunted still am I;
 * I seek the silence of the lake and hill,
 * But Love pursues me still.

The malady of Love has turned my brain, For all my life I have abode with pain;
 * Then why should I from sorrow seek to flee?
 * Sorrow is kin to me.

Here in the dwelling of unhappiness, My silent, desolate sorrow I possess;
 * For how can shining love with me remain
 * Within this house of pain?