| If I behold her, I am mad |
|
|
| I, like a poor fakir |
|
|
| False is she, breaker of all promises |
|
|
| I met you and the pain of separation was forgot |
|
|
| Here can my heart no longer rest |
|
|
| The Light is in mine eyes |
|
|
| The Widow |
|
|
| Like silver torrents flow thy words to me |
|
|
| Even in the Kaaba courts my heart was moved |
|
|
| Thou shouldst have given to me the robe and crown |
|
|