From the shadows I watch through vaulted windows,
My tired thoughts creeping towards the gleaming domes
That mark my love’s rest.
Winter circles my heart that yearns for Mumtaz, my heart, my love!
Alas, my heart lies buried colder under the cold, cold marble
Whose white splendor masks my anguish, my sorrow.
Forlorn I languish, a prisoner in my own Fort—
Once a monarch, I live in the shadowlands
Of memory that flickers and fades.
Spring has vanished from my world and blossoms ceased smiling;
I weep tears that groove my cheeks
And singe and sere my to-days and tomorrows.
Alone I long, alone I yearn, alone I wait
For God’s own time when I will rest along my love
On the banks of Yamuna, under the cold, cold marble!