گیت ۱۰

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Geet #10

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                                                                              (1)

          Let separation’s fire burn and scorch,

          let the ocean of the eyes turn arid,

                                               let the heart’s repose bleed away

                             Past joys return, crush the heart in their nimble fingers

                               and the heart thirsts, tortured and useless

You who kindle joy in my heart,

                              you who make it cry out in anguish

Your letters, your letters — send them my tormentor!

                                                                              (2)

Separation is our fate ...

                              but the letters! the letters should come,

stoke its fire, stir the heart to recite your name!

     Your name, your name — what joy to my heart!

          Let the letters come, and never stop

          Letters that awaken slumbering memories of you.

Your letters, your letters — send them my tormentor!