The true fun of this love affair would have been if the fire burned equally on both sides, so that neither you had any peace nor I found any rest.
Love is exquisite, but its ache is sharpest when carried all alone by one weary heart. Here, the poet playfully yet wistfully yearns for absolute equality in passion—wishing that the sparks of longing burned just as fiercely in the beloved's chest. True romance, this sher tells us, is found not in serene calm, but in sharing that sweet, mutual restlessness where neither soul can find peace.
Interpretation note: meanings and explanations may be AI-assisted and should not replace a primary text or scholarly edition. See the editorial policy.
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