If I shall say anything of the beloved, what then shall I say? (ode XII)

If I shall say anything of the beloved, what then shall I say?

Such is in my destiny, then of my fate, what shall I say?

Though the charmers are somewhat softened in heart,

Of fortune's crooked, wayward course, what shall I say?

I do not complain of the sable locks of the beloved;

But her eyes are blood-shedders: of the slaughtered, what shall I say?

I greatly longed to behold that sweet countenance of hers;

But it killeth the heart: of such a face, what shall I say?

They, who show no tenderness, are rivals unto themselves:

Thy beloved should be thy beloved: of a rival, what shall I say?

The morning's breeze, that causeth the rose to smile,

Is the zephyr itself; then of the morn, what shall I say?

The thorn which may be with the rose, is also the rose:

Since it belongeth to the rose, of the thorn, what shall I say?

The harsh words of the dear ones, tho' a load, are still acceptable:

Since lovers are under a load of obligations, of the load, what shall I say?

If the rose be the heart's bower, it is the lamp of the nightingale's heart:

Since it is the lamp of his heart, of the lamp, what shall I say?

The despoiled crieth out, and distracteth others' hearts too:

He remembereth the departed loved one: of the despoiled, what shall I say?

O Ahmad Shah! tho' it be a stake, it is a bed of flowers also:

Since the stake of the beloved is a bower, of the stake, what shall I say?