You ask, my love, about my tears
But don't you recognize the fears
That agonize my heart?
Were not your infidelity
Torturing me so cruelly
My sorrows would depart

How can your lovers joyful be
If practicing idolatry
Is just like loving you?
If this your real nature is
What wounded heart can find release?
What medicine will do?

I sense, that you have turned aside
I suffer from my rivals' pride
I'm killed in either way,
If one makes love to Plato's tune
To me he'll always be Manjun
Tomorrow as today

No dog is subject to such pain
I'm like a watchdog in your lane
And yet I suffer still,
A dog wants naught, RAHMAN wants you
This single goal I must pursue
Whatever be your will

(Translated by Jens Enevoldsen, from the book The Nightingale of Peshawar: Selected Poems of Rehman Baba)