Unfinished Theft

Oh, my love! Pity my poor heart!

You grasp it firmly, so covered, so hidden,
No hint of its pain meets the eyes of the world.
If not for the ache, I’d thought it fled from my chest!

Be gracious, my love! Remove it from me,
Take it full for your own!
Rid me of its burden, its sighs and its moans!

— Bhai Din

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