The sedition of your eyes became so rampant that Shakib of my heart screamed that Shakib of my heart screamed the skirt of my heart The one who broke the morning mirror and the cup of the tulip broke the dust of the night in the mouth of the free lily, oh of the joke of your eyes, which the bloodthirsty of the sky saw this way of killing people and learned that I am and the candle of the burnt heart, O Lord of Madadi, who once again disturbed the night and the wind took my poem from the moaning of the lovers He cried out from that wound that was no longer rampant, our shadow was killed by our lover, who took this stunt of expediency, with the help of Farhads axe
