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She was upset

I saw my beloved today—her hair was curled,
'Hello', I called, with no reply. Could she be upset with me?
Look at her face—a red apple, full like the moon,
Her heart out, eyes wet, like pouring rain,
She struck me like lightning and left—outraged like the thunder.
 
I asked, 'With sorrow in your heart, where do you go? May I die for your charm,
Stop, let your heart soften, you go in vain. May I die for your tribe,
Heed my words, I am speaking as you go silently. May I die for your mother,
You're my sweet love, aren't you? Where do you go? May I die for your heart,
Come, sit with me and tell me—why is your heart troubled?'
 
Oh, I begged, but my love left and did not turn back,
Wherever she went, I followed, until the star of light arose,
She wandered then plucked my heart out and took it with her,
'Shahen', she cried, 'your heart was no remedy to mine',
Now I know that my beloved was upset—upset with my art