We walk and walk with the friend by our side
and the pain of our love and longing hide.
We have no voice to be joyful about
but your silence to nourish as our lot.
The flame of love lit a fire in our heart
which has come to wholly define our art.
Like sandalwood, we place your name in fire
and your fragrance be all that we desire.
We have no hope but the promise of pain
and your remembrance again and again.
We have no where to go and nothing to say
in this wandering; This is how we pray.
Darvish has this complaint about the friend;
He is always present, but never found.
