How long has Love ordained that I should suffer
Beneath the passing feet.
GHALIB.
[XXIV.
THE WIDOW.]
I call on Death, for Life is my distress,
And I myself a load of weariness
Weighing upon myself. Helpless am I;
Dared I to weep, then never would run dry
The fountains of my grief: I cannot speak:
Even the occupation that I seek