The night of absence has now cast its shade:
What freaks by Fancy's night-gang will be played?
He who has loved relates an endless tale:
Here the most eloquent of tongues must fail.
My Turk's kind glances no one can obtain:
Alas, this pride, this coldness, this disdain!
In perfect beauty did thy wish draw nigh:
God guard thee from Kamál's malefic eye![44]
Háfiz, long will last
Patience, love, and pain?
Lovers wail is sweet:
Do thou still complain.
CXLVI
O thou who hast ravished my heart by thine exquisite grace and thy
shape,
Thou carest for no one, and yet not a soul from thyself can escape.
At times I draw sighs from my heart, and at times, O my life, thy
sharp dart:
Can aught I may say represent all the ills I endure from my heart?
How durst I to rivals commend thy sweet lips by the ruby's tent gemmed,
When words that are vivid in hue by a soul unrefined are contemned?
As strength to thy beauty accrues ev'ry day from the day sped before,
To features consummate as thine, will we liken the night-star no more.