There is a prosperous and populous city where fragments of moon gleam at every turn. Each fragment holds a shard of my shattered heart. Examine everyone’s appearance closely. Among these shapes, there is a bloodthirsty archer, aiming to slay me with his bolts. Anyone wishing to vie with him in beauty and allure must have cheeks of rose petals and a cypress’s lithe grace. Others worship the pale moon of his face as if it were the sun, but no such celestial orb rises to rule my fateful horoscope. Love for you has tunnelled its way deep into the cavity of my chest where my wounded heart sleeps like an infant in the cradle. When he promises union, he covers his face and hides himself away. What can Khusrau do but give his soul to whoever happens to be looking on?

from In the Bazaar of Love – The Selected Poetry of Amir Khusrau Translated by Paul E. Losensky and Sunil Sharma