remember him who did not remember us when leaving,
who did not comfort our grief with a goodbye.
that one blessed with youth who kept good accounts-
i don’t know why he didn’t free the old slave!
let us wash the shirt of regret with tears of blood-
for the heavens guide me not to the cry of justice!
the heart in hope of a voice reaching you
sobbed such stony cries as farhad did not know.
from the time you withdrew your shadow, dawn’s bird
has not made its nest in the box tree’s branching curls.
if the dawn breeze learned to ply its trade from you,
a more subtle motion than this it would not know.
the designer’s reed draws not desire’s portrait
save for he who has confessed to beauty god-given.
minstrel! lift the veil and strike the note of hejaz-
for by this note the friend has left and forgotten us!
note: farhad= the great lover of poetic tradition, was a stone worker.
