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Like a Wandering Bubble
I, like a wandering bubble,
Am blown here and there
Shifting and changing and fashioned
Of water and air.
Thou turnest thy face, O Belovéd,
I cannot tell why,
Art thou shy of a mirror, Belovéd?
Thy mirror am I!
When over her face she unloosened
The dusk of her hair,
What need had the world of the cloud-wreaths,
They fled in despair.
Ghulam Hamdani Mushafi (1725-1824)