So tyrannous are your eyes Even the morning breeze is hot with wrath No soft burden in its breath it has It only faints and dies Like [Hazrat] Khizr, strong and fair Whose soul is steeped in the immortal spring The well of life, you shall be worshipping With holy words of prayer Born to the Khalif’s place, None other heir had such high estate as yours, You has the beauty that is all divine...
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