There is no sorrow in the cage, no grievance against the hunter, let that cruel one never forget its own captive, never. I held back my sighs and cries through all this separation, so that my complaint would not show through my lamentation, never. Let the cage be torn open with the blood of spring’s blooming, give the prisoners the good news of freedom, hold it back never. The painter of creation fashioned the beloved’s image so precisely that neither Mani nor Behzad ac

Where is the heart untempered by despair, Whose strands, unlike his dark hair, never entwine? The world has wearied mine with cruelty and spite, For only union with my friend can set it right. I find contentment in a greeting or a glance, Yet cry at love’s injustice and its dire expanse. Though all admire the crescent of the feast, It bends not like my lover’s brow, nor shines at least. O morning breeze, pass gently by his side, And say that grief alone is now my guide. And i