XIX: Were the looks constantly directed to every fair…

Were the looks constantly directed to every fair one's face,
How long, in love, would the saint's sanctity stand?

"As thou eatest of every tree, one, at least, will be poison"--
This axiom hath been tested throughout the world.

In one short moment, love turneth into ridicule
The saint's century of piety, and the empire of the prince.

It will drag him away disgraced to the market-place,
Though the hermit be sitting, a hundred seclusions within.

Love's affairs cannot be conducted by the wisest counsels--
The body cannot be cast into the fire, by any safe plan.

The languid eyes, far-reaching, have my heart reached,
Though the arrow of the lax bow but tardily striketh.

It is ever, either the jingle of the anklets of the beloved,
Or the clanking chains of love's distracted ones.

Though the mart of the fair be crowded with misfortunes,
They are not, by rebuke of saint, or ascetic, restrained.

Every breath, every step, it placeth at the breast malediction's sword;
And separation from the beloved, sick unto death, hath Hamid made!