Notice the Poor.

Do not overlook my misery,
by blandishing your eyes and weaving tales;
My patience has over-brimmed, O sweetheart!
why do you not take me to your bosom.
Long like curls in the night of separation
short like life on the day of our union.
My dear, how will I pass the dark dungeon night
without your face before.
Suddenly, using a thousand tricks
the enchanting eyes robbed me of my tranquil mind.
Who would care to go and report
this matter to my darling.
Tossed and bewildered, like a flickering candle,
I roam about in the fire of love.
Sleepless eyes, restless body,
neither comes she, nor any message.
In honour of the day I meet my beloved
who has lured me so long, O Khusro!
I shall keep my heart suppressed
if ever I get a chance to get to her trick.
                                                            (Adapted from Amir Khusrou's Zihaal-e-Miskeen)