No one came here, surely no one came,
Just the wind that rattled my door's frame.
O foolish heart, do not beat, do not beat,
Someone, a letter, to a neighbor's name.
This garden's way, oh rose-branch, is this:
The flower you nurtured, another would claim.
Darkness, perhaps, was the heart's cruel fate,
Else who extinguished the mosque's flame?
Like a butterfly, fallen from a rose, let fall,
You tempests, surely the trees you maim.
Children must have come out to play,
The moon descended in her lane, the same.
Don't yearn for home, in distant lands so far,
This rain, it must have brought it all to shame.
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