O love, as lovely as the tulips in bloom ! Be my guest;
I've kept brimful goblets of wine for you ! -
And 0, let me show you my lacerated heart !

How prompt to promise faith, but how faithless
You have been ! How shall I tell you
How promptly you forgot your first love !

Placing at your feet my life, the only thing I have,
Is now the only way I can offer you my love.

Else, I will hug you hard, and with blood gushing out
Of my torn heart, dye you in crimson guilt.

You have chosen to hide, but I shall tear my veil,
And you will find my corpse lying at your door.

Without you, like the arawal. I passed my days on thorns,
And the fire of love blighted me well before autumn came.

O, come and hear me speak ! How else can I reveal
The havoc that love has wrought in my heart !

Flowers have dyed their robes bright with my tears.
Where will you dye yours, beloved, when I am no more ?

O, could I, like Mahjoor, compose songs on love's agony,
And implore devotees of love to pass them on to you !