XLIV: I never will carry my face unto the…

I never will carry my face unto the mirror again,
Nor will I again anoint mine eyes with antimony!

Never more will I dye red my white hands with hinna,
Nor smoothe out, with the comb, my long hair any more!

I will not arrange the little ringlets, in clusters round my face,
Nor will I redden my lips with the betel-leaf again!

For whom shall I deck out and ornament my person,
When my beloved friend is not present the same to behold?

My whole frame turneth into red flames and dense smoke,
When, in my heart, I think of the secrets of our love.

Though life is sweeter than aught else in the world besides,
What shall I do with it? 'tis bitter now, from my love severed.

May he be HAPPY, that dear friend, wherever he may be!
Let him for his own happiness care--I alone will mourn!