LXXI: When the tresses become dishevelled about her fair…

When the tresses become dishevelled about her fair, white face,
The bright day becometh shrouded in evening's sombre shade.

If this, which is seen, be the beauty of her countenance,
Very many more, like unto me, will grow distracted for her.

Those are not tears pendant from her long eyelashes;
They are all bright gems and pearls, that are being bored.

With new tints and dyes, .fresh fragrance, and green young leaves,
An astonishingly rare flower is blooming, the parterre within.

Should he, who is wont to repose upon her tresses, be aware
Of my tears and sighs, he would in sleep never close his eye.

The words of Khushhal's mouth are not idle and meaningless--
They all are spoken from a certain emotion of the heart.