XLV: Thy face hath shamed the rose, and thy…

Thy face hath shamed the rose, and thy tresses, the spikenard:
The nightingale forsaketh the parterre, and flieth unto thee.

From how long since, indeed, dost thou inflict, and I endure?
Bravo unto thy tyranny, and unto this resignation of mine!

My heart, thro' jealousy, becometh lacerated within my breast,
When the senseless comb runneth its fingers thy ringlets thro'.

When smiling, thy rosy lips reveal their beauties,
Exactly like unto the rose-bud, when it unfoldeth its leaves.

The whole world, through injustice, had become desolate,
Had kings shown such arrogance and indifference as thou!

Though I observe a thousand fasts of patience and austerity;
With a single glance towards me, thou subvertest them all.

How long shall I dry thy tyranny's tears with my sleeve?
Wherefore is the bridge not constructed on the waters of the flood?

For with love, as with quicksilver, there is no repose, save in death!
How long then am I to live, when I am in agitation ever

O Hamid! the fair maids of the Sarraban tribe have no equals;
Whether it is in Egypt, or in Kanaean--in Kabul or Kashmir.