XXIV: Though I have become crushed by the multitude…

Though I have become crushed by the multitude of my sorrows,
I cannot be patient, nor can I, from the fair abstain.

Let all the offerings and sacrifices of the world, be an oblation,
Unto the reproaches, upbraidings, and coquetry of the fair.

When I cast my eyes on their beauty, sweetly blooming,
The fresh-blown flowers of spring are nothing to me.

Before the sleepy, languid glance of my love, I wonder,
That with a lax-strung bow, they, so sharply, strike.

She raiseth uproar in the privacy of the secluded,
When this peace-disturber displayeth her charms, unto them.

She dischargeth a thousand darts, right into my heart,
When, in anger, she turneth her eyes, sharply, on me.

Why would any one, entreatingly, ask aught of them,
Were not the upbraidings of the fair, with honey mixed?

The sweet creatures, by their duennas, avert the evil eye;
For in front of the melon-bed, the black shard will be placed.

If he hath not pressed the lips of the sugar-lipped ones,
How hath Hamid's tongue become a scatterer of sweets?