XLVII: Though I adjure thee again and again, a…

Though I adjure thee again and again, a thousand times,
Or give counsel unto thee, in a hundred different ways,

Neither my monitions, nor my entreaties touch thee--
What calamity am I? what abomination fallen in the path?

If these are not the marplot's counsels, what then are they,
That my admonitions make no impression on thy ear?

Such joy as thou displayest in cruelly torturing me,
Such delight the nightingale showeth not, even for the rose.

In love, since I live on less than half of a dying breath,
Death is a hundred times preferable, to such existence as this.

Since they talk to me of patience, when separated from thee,
The admonishers chew, out of place, these cuds of monition.

Ask no promises of me regarding the affairs of love;
Else, why is it, that poison is not with relish swallowed?

As one, that from the sheath, half draweth a sword on another,
In such wise, do thy white arms daunt and terrify me.

A nightingale, like Hamid, there would not be among them,
Were not the Sarrabans a garden, thro' their maidens fair.