GHAZAL OF MAJID SHAH
Grief is hard upon me, Master, for she has left me;
The black dust has covered my pretty one.
My heart is black, for the tomb has taken my friend;
How pleasantly would go the days if my friend were here.
I can only dream of the stature of my friend;
The flowers are dying in my heart, my breast is a fading garden.
Her breast is a sweet garden now, and her garments are gold flowers;
I am an orchard at night, for my friend has gone a journey.
I am