There is a very sea before me in my passion for my beloved: but a trusty bark to cross it there is none for me.
What will they not do when they are enemies, those who suffer one to pine away when they are friends?
Vast as the sea is the joy that love yieldeth: but when it taketh to burning, the pangs it causeth are deeper far.
I swim in the stormy sea of love, but I spy not any shore thereto: even in the dead of night I am all alone and there is none to console me.
Night in her mercy rocketh all life to sleep: and yet she hath none to help her through but me.56
The Night that passeth too slowly for me today is crueller in its cruelty than the cruel one himself.
If my eyes can run, even as my heart runneth, to where he is, they need not now be swimming in a sea of tears.
CXVIII
The Wasting of the Eyes Through Wistful Longing
She
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Why do my Eyes complain to me today? This inconsolable grief hath come even upon me only through their showing to me my beloved.
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How is it that the Eyes that looked rashly on the beloved that day grieve today, instead of bearing patiently the consequences of their own folly?
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They looked on him straightway of their own free will that day, and today they weep of themselves: how they make themselves ridiculous!
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After bequeathing to me the incurable grief that consumeth me, my Eyes have now dried up, having exhausted their store of tears.
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My Eyes which have brought on me this anguish vaster than the ocean, now pine away with grief and cannot even lay themselves to sleep.
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Oh, it is a sweet revenge to me that the Eyes that caused me this sorrow are victims themselves to the selfsame anguish!
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Beshrew the eyes that hung upon his form on that day with a passionate, greedy, all-absorbing love! May they dry up to their very roots with pining and repining!
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Verily there be those who love without being loved! For here are my eyes which know no repose for not seeing him.
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My Eyes sleep not when he is away, neither sleep they when he is returned: either way it is their lot to suffer unceasing pain.
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When people’s eyes themselves are telltale drums, even as my own, it is not hard for strangers to read the secret they seek to conceal.
CXIX
Bewailing the Pallor of Pining Love
She
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It is I myself that consented to the parting of my beloved: to whom shall I complain now of my pallor?
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Pallor is proud of being his child, and creeping all over my frame rideth on me.
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My comeliness and my modesty he hath taken away, giving in exchange nought but the pangs of the heart and my pallid hue.
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In my heart I think nought but his thoughts, with my tongue I speak nought but his praises: and yet, witchcraft! this pallor hath overspread my frame.57
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That day too he went but there, and paleness sought me out here!58
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Even as darkness lieth in wait for the light to be put out, even so doth Pallor lie in wait for my separation from my lord.
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I lay in his embrace: I then left him for a while, and behold, pallor swallowed me up, as it were!
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There are people to reproach me saying, Behold she hath become sallow and pale: but there is none to reproach him for abandoning me!
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Acquit him forsooth, my maid, of all harmful intent: the deathlike pallor of my body is nothing to thee.
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It is good for me even to be twitted with the sallowness of my skin, if only they accuse not my beloved of cruelty.59
CXX
Anguish of Heart That the Husband Feeleth Not as Oneself
She
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They alone eat the stoneless all-sweet fruit of love who are beloved of those whom they hold dear.
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What the rain is to all the world, that is the tenderness of the beloved to her that loveth.
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They alone can pride themselves on their happiness who are loved in return by those whom they love.
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What if they are loved by others? If women receive not the affection of their beloved they know no happiness on earth.
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How can I hope for any favour from my beloved if he loveth me not even as I love him?
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Even as the burden on the carrying pole, love is pleasant only when it is on both sides: but it is a galling load when it is only on one side.60
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The God of Love assaileth only me: is it because he hath no eyes for my sorrows and sufferings?
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None in the world are so hard-hearted as women who continue to live on even when they receive no kind messages from their beloved.
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Even if the beloved is unkind to us, any message that cometh from him is sweet to the ear.
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Bless thee, my Heart! Thou wouldst tell thy grief to one who loveth thee not: thou mayest as well try to dry up the sea.
CXXI
Sighing for the Absent One
He
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Even in the recollection love is sweet with endless delights: love is therefore sweeter than wine.
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The moment I recall the image of my loved one to my mind, that very moment all my sorrow is vanquished: ah, love is dear in all its aspects!
She
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I was about to sneeze, but the fit passed away: is it that he was about to think of me but did not?61
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Have I at all a place in his heart? As for him, there is never a doubt but he abideth in mine.
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He excludeth me jealously from his heart: is he not ashamed then to show himself ceaselessly in mine?
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It is but the recollection of our union that keepeth me alive yet: what else of life is there in me?62
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Even
