XIX: I possess none of the chattels of tranquillity…

I possess none of the chattels of tranquillity, the encampment within;
Since I have a tent, like the bubble, upon the face of the deep.

If thou art not the owner of a single straw, grieve not thereat;
For then, the village-consuming fire will in thy Haram expire.

When thy face became bedewed with perspiration, by thy head I vow,
That therein the rose-scattering splendour of dew I beheld.

'When wert thou ever shrouded the veil of retirement within?
Thou art manifest in all the world, like a Phoenix unto.

Her eyes show not even as much regard towards me,
As the wild gazelle that looketh round ere it taketh to flight.

'Tis needless to apply any salve to my all-sufficient wound:
How can the recovery' of the slaughtered be brought about?

Morning and evening--day and night--with sable dress, and garment rent,
Like unto time itself, in sorrow and mourning my existence is spent.

The beautiful lineaments of her face are most amazing:
In this writing there is no work soever for any one's pen.

His life perpetually from danger, how shall Shaida guard;
When the snaky curls are in total darkness shrouded ever?