Farhad, Qais, Wamiq, and Azra used to be four friends. Now that I have also joined them, together we have become four or five.

With delightful wit and self-irony, the poet pulls up a chair among the legendary lovers of lore—Farhad, Majnun (Qais), Wamiq, and Azra. He casually remarks that with his own entry into the madness of love, this timeless fraternity of broken hearts has now grown to 'four or five.' Rather than mourning his ruin, he treats his sorrow with a wry smile, celebrating how grief and obsession make him part of a noble tradition.