My kinsmen suggest I’m a madman possessed
drained daily by disquieted love, obsessed.
A love that your father resolved to oppress
And turned me away without hope of redress.
He foolishly gifted a jewel to a rose
And hid you away in the place undisclosed.
Therefore I withdrew from where I was reviled
Assigned to myself a wilderness exile.
I live now like Nebuchadnezzar of old
Wild beasts as my friends and a forest abode.
I ponder my poems as I pace near the ponds
Then scribble my sonnets in sand with a wand.
My Kinsmen, they pay me with drink and with food
to sing them my songs during festival moons.
I perform for the Lords- perform for the throngs
But they do not love me-love only my songs.
It is true I am mad- a hawk and a dove
A poor pining poet possessed by love.
As you are my Layla and I am your Qays
Ill love you forever and another day.