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XI.
When shall the mocking world withhold its blame,
When shall men cease to darken thus my name,
Calling the love which is my pride, my shame!
O Judge, let me my condemnation see;
Whose names are written on my death decree?—
The names of all who have been friends to me.
What hope to reach the Well-Beloved's door,
The dear lost dwelling that I knew of yore;
I stumbled once; I can return no more.
The joy of love no heart can feel alone,
The fire of love at first unseen, unknown,
In flames of love from either side is blown.
O Asif, tread thy pathway carefully
Across this difficult world; for, canst thou see,
A further journey is awaiting thee.
Asif.
