I became Majnun in the desert of affliction.
Whom could I tell about my crazy pain?
My heart is bleeding because of separation from my friend.
I cannot confide in any foolish person my pain.
That nightingale who was estranged from his flower,
is continuously lamenting loneliness.
Oh zephyr, from prisoner’s tongue,
tell the gardener about my pain.
My patience has reached its limits. I have no peace.
Time of my joy has passed. I have no companion.
There is no confidante for my secrets.
Let no stranger know of my pain.
If a compassionate friend is known.
Tells the beloved of my pain with fervor and passion.
Nightingale’s eagerness for the flower garden never ends.
Enthusiasm for love never goes out of his mind.
Mazun’s complaints never end by telling.
I should write my pain as narratives.