"I am all afire I am pain all over. I twist my hands in despair, For I find not my Love. Annoyed art Thou with me, But' tis my own fault, I perceived not the Truth of Thee; I have wasted away my youth, And now can only regret and repent. Rise, O Farid, do your ablutions, Say your morning prayers. The head that bows not to the Lord Should be cut apart from the trunk."