Someone said to Majnun, ‘O righteous one,

What happened that you no longer come to life?’

‘Has the madness of Layla not remained in your head,

Has your imagination changed, and no desire remains?’

When the poor man heard this, he wept bitterly,

‘O master, take my hand from the hem of your robe.’

I myself have a wounded heart and a torn soul,

You too, are salt upon my wounds.

Separation is not a reason for patience,

For much separation was essential.

He said, ‘O loyal one, of fortunate nature,

Tell the message you carry to Layla.’

He replied, ‘Do not take my name to the friend,

For my name is of no worth where he is.’