Blooming in the wilds and fading it unknown,
My God, if the Mercy be Your with me!
Let me be a singer of that flower, that wild bloom
Blooming and fading away unseen, unknown;
Let me be a singer of that!
That beloved whom one lures and loves and abandons her
On the unknown path of life;
Let, let me stand up and wipe out the tears falling
From the eyes of that innocent maiden
And trickling down the cheeks;
My Lord! And if be it not,
What is it in my songs that I write,
The lyrics I pride over?
My tears, what will you,
Her sorrows who to take to,
As this life itself devoid of all that
To be adorned with;
My love, what will they
As value it not;
And her heart forlorn and bereaving
Who to console it?
God has given you talent
And it scattering like a wild flower
Whose beauty I know it not;
Whose glory and magnificence
I know it not;
As I myself go on priding over
My own stuffs,
My laurels and plaques.
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