Alas the wasted labour of my youth!
Alas the hope which vain hath proved in truth!
I tunnelled mountain walls: behold my prize!
My labour's wasted: here the hardship lies!
The world is void of sun and moon for me:
My garden lacks its box and willow tree.
For the last time my beacon-light hath shone;
Not Shirin, but the sun from me is gone!
Beyond Death's portals Shirin shall I greet,
So with one leap I hasten Death to meet!
Thus to the world his mournful tale he cried,
For Shirin kissed the ground and kissing died.