I heard that when a beggar’s son came to be,

He intended to meet with a prince, royal and free.

He walked on, cooking up an unripe dream in his mind,

His thoughts biting down, leaving all else behind.

His field was never void, as desire would appear,

Always beside his horse, like a mighty steer.

His heart turned to blood, yet the secret stayed within,

But his feet were stuck in mud, his tears like a sin.

Rivals heard of his pain and the grief he concealed,

They warned him once more, 'Here, do not be revealed.'

He left for a moment, yet thoughts of his friend arose,

And pitched his tent again at the friend's abode, where love grows.

A servant broke him, head, hands, and feet with a blow,

For he had said, 'Did I not warn you, do not go?'

He left again, with patience gone and no calm to be had,

His endurance lost, from his beloved's face so sad.

Like a fly, he was driven away by cruelty’s bane,

Chased off, yet returned soon to bear the same strain.

Someone called to him, 'O you foolish, playful one,'

You have strange patience for wood and stone, undone!

He replied, 'This injustice comes from him, not me,'

No condition to complain, from a friend, you see.

Now, I speak of friendship, this I proclaim,

Whether he loves or hates me, it’s all the same.

Do not expect patience from me without his part,

For with him, there is no peace, no place for the heart.

I lack the strength to endure or the place to strive,

No chance to exist, nor to flee, to survive.

Do not speak of this in the court, bow your head low,

Or else, the noose will tighten, as you forfeit your woe.

Not even the butterfly has given its soul at the feet of a lover,

Better than living in the dark corner of his world, one must be lost in love.

He asked, 'Will you bear the blow of his mace, should it strike?'

He replied, 'I will fall at his feet like a ball at his might.'

He asked, 'What if he cuts off your head with his sword?'

He replied, 'Such a thing would not be a regret from him.'

I care not of myself, of what my head may hold,

Whether a crown rests on my hair or an axe takes its toll.

Do not act impatiently with me,

For patience has no form in love, it cannot be seen.

Like Jacob, should my sight become blind,

I will not cut off hope of seeing Joseph, even in my mind.

One who is joyful with someone, without strife,

Will not harm them with the smallest of strife.

One day, a youth kissed the stirrup of his horse,

The man became angry, taking the reins of course.

He laughed and said, 'Twist the reins, do not fear,

For the sovereign does not turn reins from anywhere, my dear.'

With your existence, there is no place left for mine,

In remembrance of you, self-preservation no longer aligns.

If you see my fault, do not blame me,

It is you who brought it forth from my being, you see.

Know that it was with your courage I took the reins,

For I did not bring myself into account, only your gains.

I drew the pen upon the crown of my name,

And placed my step upon the head of my desires, the same.

The arrow of that drunken eye will kill me, no doubt,

What need is there for the sword in hand, with that about?

You strike fire into the reed and the journey too,

Neither dry nor wet will remain in the grove, it's true.