1. Oh, how all love brings but sorrow!
My tears and sleepless nights attest.

2. Woe to those felled by passion—truly,
They are the dead, though unwakeful and unburied.

3. They walk the earth, vanity beyond them,
No trace of joy upon their cheeks.

4. If people could see their inner secrets,
Hellfire and Saqar would seem light!

5. They broke no oath, no vow,
Committed neither wrong nor treachery.

6. They have borne disgrace—but were it not for love,
They'd not have borne such deep humiliation.

7. Naught remains in me but some shadow
Which, but for hope, would also fade.

8. My pillow is like my burning liver—
Both aflame from inner fires searing through.

9. Each dawn my bedfellow resembles me—
In it, arrows and needles lie.

10. Perhaps some echo from India will reach me,
For news of my agony has spread far.

11. Why is India angry with me?
My cheek is still soft; old age has not yet come.

12. I am still lithe and slender, my will unchanged.
India, no weakness or frailty is in me!

13. No! The spite of slanderers who have sworn
To breed discord between us, and ruin what we share.

14. Woe to the days we knew, now lost,
Those tender, trusting days of yore!

15. Days when time's hand was not clasped round me
Nor India's heart blocked against me.

16. I remember no night with her I did not stay up
As the branches gently stirred o’er our heads.

17. I forgave the fault of our tryst for her visit—
When lovers meet, all sins are forgiven!

18. We hid from the spies, veiled by darkness and my hair.
Three who never slept—I, the moon, and the Pleiades.

19. So why do these stars glare down so balefully
As if portending doom upon us?

20. If our flushed faces at dawn offended them,
Know that the blackest night hides our love!

21. Or if our whispered endearments enraged them,
Then surely scattered petals can make amends!

22. Why do those branches bend down in sorrow
As if to shorten the distance between us?

23. They weep as though their bloom were too heavy to bear,
Yet their tears only water the fruits they bear!

24. Now they sway close along the earth, now they climb
Up again to dance freely in the open sky.

25. When India saw them, she started in fright—
Such omens make blood run cold in the veins!

26. Lithe and graceful, if they did not bend so,
I'd fear they would snap when the wind blows through.

27. Matchless is she, no other compares.
Adorned not with trinkets but with dignity and poise.

28. Each limb, each feature reveals new facets
Of an ever-astonishing beauty.

29. The stars bloom like pearls on her breast.
If they adorned her throat, how they would shimmer!

30. Her melodious voice, just a whisper would captivate,
Silencing the hushed night to hear it better.

31. I confide my torment while she is distracted—
Lost in thought, too lovesick to hear me.

32. Oh India, why do people rebuke us so
When we've done no wrong and bear no guilt?

33. India laughed and said pay them no mind—
Let them rave if they want; they are only human!

34. I'd give my soul if only they understood,
Felt this love like we do—they would not blame us!

35. Only the ignorant deny love.
Can the sighted deny the sun that they see?

36. Leave them be, though they rant, though they rave.
Do not blame them; they know not what they do!

37. Let us steal away, never tiring.
We have been silent; no need to defend ourselves!

38. But we drank too deeply of loving's wine,
And we kissed, just as all lovers do in their revels!

39. So say to those who accuse us so freely:
It was but whispers and glances, no more!

40. The stars set; how the night's heart seemed to crack!
I bid her farewell, my own heart in tumult,

41. Barely stemming my tears as they started to pour.
She bid me farewell, two teardrops descending

42. To soak through her robe, glistening over the red coral beneath.
How my weeping once made time itself laugh,

43. As though parting were meaningless to it!
My nights before were tranquil, untroubled—

44. And now they have become naught but turmoil.
When thoughts of her drain my tears fully,

45. The clouds fill in the gaps, weeping in my stead.
Perhaps the nights will recognize their crime

46. Against the slain lover, and beg his pardon!