O, my beloved I - Who could tell her my desire?
I'm like an ember in the furnace of love's heat
When only my beloved's kiss can quench the fire -
No any lashing storm of rain or snow or sleet.

The Wanderer passed on, leaving an empty shell.
The Coward broke the bond a Hero forged so well.
And my Beloved made my life a living hell,
Its agony well seasoned for this Fool to eat.

I've lost her somewhere now, beyond the tell of touch.
My fortune sleeps, my fortune slumbers all too much.
Peace dies of hurt. My heart within its little hutch
Beats on until I see her comeliness complete.

My pain constricts me with the coils of a snake.
Jesus would not know, or Lukman, what to take
To loose these toils. My head, my vision is opaque.
Only by speaking out I ease this raging gleet.

You piled up all these earthly goods - and then you laughed
To gain one cent you made a thousand sweat and graft.
If world is river, you make but a fragile craft.
How long can you continue strolling Easy Street?

Whoever took a single penny from this life?
It ends in ruin: grief and care are always rife.
O son of human seed, here is the end of strife:
You finish up with ash and dust your last retreat.

Where Makhtumkuli is the country you call home?
You labour greatly but who owns this land you roam
Where fate prevails? You1ll earn a stretch of loam1
God willing1 wrapped up in six yards of winding sheet....