Ghazal Of Majid Shah
Grief is hard upon me, Master, for she has left me; The black dust has covered my pretty one. My heart is black, for the tomb has taken my friend; How pleasantly would go the days if my friend were here. I can only dream of the stature of my friend; The flowers are dying in my heart, my breast is a fading garden. Her breast is a sweet garden now, and her garments are gold flowers; I am an orchard at night, for my friend has gone a journey. I am Majid Shah, a slave that ministers to the dead; Abdel Qadir Gilani, even the Master, shall not save me. From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century).
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"Grief is hard upon me, Master, for she has left me;..."
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