XVI: The tresses of this impassioned loved-one, are all…

The tresses of this impassioned loved-one, are all dishevelled:
They are spread all around her face, like a shadow unto.

She hath prepared every separate hair as a snare--
Each one laid for the capture of wounded hearts.

Within those hearts how can there be aught of tranquillity,
When she hath held them in check, by the reins of love?

Since from such an abode of their own they are exiled,
Where is the land of their sojourn, in which peace may be found?

They, who have their reason lost, thro' such a charmer's love,
Have now renounced both the rosary and the Brahmanical cord.

All things have happened through their own affection;
And those without it, are useless, in all respects.

They have no place, either in the closet or the wine-shop:
Neither in the Muslim's regard, nor the infidel's sympathy.

With regard to such like eyes, what caution can I use,
When their glances are prepared for piercing me?

Her lovely person she hath transformed to a sandal tree;
And those tresses, like unto snakes, are around it fallen.

He, who nourisheth the desire of such a sight as this,
On him, are the whole miseries of the universe heaped.

The hearts of lovers ever kindle, at the loved-one's glance;
For 'tis a flame; and her eyes are like firebrands unto.

To-day she hath again lighted the lamp of her beauty;
And her adorers' hearts, like the moth, are oblations thereon.

The names, nightingale and wooer, are one and the same;
And conscious hearts, in her praise, are melodious songsters.

Her eyes are lotuses, and the pupils, they are black bees;
And their gaze, like the gazelle's, is free and unrestrained.

Her eyebrows are bows, and her eyelashes, the arrows;
And to launch upon her lover, she hath raised them.

The pure and sincere, in both worlds, enjoy liberty:
'Tis a tower, whence to gain a good sight of the beloved.

Than this supreme felicity, what greater can there be,
When, every moment, they expect the adored to behold?

This infinity, on the water-wheel of unity she placed;
And each water-pot, in its own turn, cometh and departeth.

She hath endowed every one with her own understanding;
And every one's perception is, in proportion, according.

O Mirza! behold thou those languid, sleepy eyes,
That, for the love of the adored, beam with phrenzy ever!