Juda hoon yaar se hum aur na ho raqeeb juda

From my own love I'm torn, but let my foe not be apart; Each has his written fate, each has a destiny apart.

The moment that I left your street, my soul began to leave apart; For how can from the rose-beds the sad nightingale believe apart?

If in the mosque that pagan grace its holy form should weave apart, The priest and crier from their faith would instantly then cleave apart.

O healer, let this pain of parting never from me leave apart, Though all my limbs, like letters spelling grief, you may perceive apart.

The school of love has different books, a knowledge to receive apart; Its master and its scholar from all other teachers cleave apart.

Why should a wail not join the flood of tears my sad eyes heave apart? The herald from the marching army never takes his leave apart.

For Eden's loss the wheat still bears a wound and has to grieve apart; O God, may no poor soul from his own homeland have to leave apart.

The heavens tore my love from me, a blow I must receive apart, But from my heart, the grief for her, they never could bereave apart.

O Zauq, for whose departure should our aching spirits grieve apart? When soon enough from everyone, this mortal world we'll leave apart.