XLVI: Wherefore doth the possessor of beauty boast of…

Wherefore doth the possessor of beauty boast of loveliness?
It will, of itself, become the pointed at, like the new moon.

Though one should call it a ruby a thousand times over,
The crowfoot's red berry therefrom, doth not to a ruby turn.

Whoever aspireth after the beauty of the Scythian-like fair,
Like the ant, merely for his own destruction, acquireth wings.

Just as the child playeth and gamboleth with earth and mud;
So sporteth the poor lover, with his property and his life.

Expel selfishness from thy heart, if thou wouldst love pursue;
For without that deficiency, this perfection existeth not.

This doctrine of love is an ecstacy, from beginning to end;
And for the utterance, even of a word, there is no power here.

Is this a black mole upon the forehead of my beloved?
Or is it Bilal arisen, the summons unto prayer to sound?

Defend us from the patronage of the self-conceited, be he ever so liberal:
The mouth gasping thro' hunger, is good; but not opened, to beg.

Envy not, O possessor of riches, the poverty of Hamid!
This poor blanket, for that shawl, I will not exchange with thee!