XVII: At times the body burneth from heat; sometimes…

At times the body burneth from heat; sometimes, it trembleth from the cold:
At others, it dieth from thirst and hunger; at others, from excess of food.

All, all who have come into the world, are in tumult and in uproar:
Neither is that hungry one at peace, nor that cloyed one in tranquillity.

At times, they raise the hand to the head, and act civilly to each other;
Sometimes they stretch out the hand to the dagger and the sword.

When the angels mixed the dust of the first Adam together,
They combined, along with it, all manner of pains and woe.

What matters it, though this very hour one be beaten or be bound?
His time, too, will come likewise, to strike and to pinion others.

For how long will this crazy foundation of our's continue firm?
With plastering and propping it so continually I am quite worn out.

'Tis possible, perhaps, that after death one may laugh in the tomb,
Who may, in this life, have mourned and lamented over himself.

I perceive all are departers--there are none to be tarriers behind:
Travelling upon this road is necessary, alike, for young and for old.

It is the flowing ringlets of the beloved that every one seeketh after,
Whether it be the young or old, the great or small, the rich or poor.

Supremely happy is he who hath been accepted at her threshold;
But woe and misery for him who hath been driven from it.

Like unto me, Rahman, hundreds were her nightingales;
But which that dark-eyed one hath chosen, God only knoweth!