CHAPTER 118
THE WASTING OF THE EYES THROUGH WISTFUL LONGING
1171. Why do my Eyes complain to me to-day ? This inconsolable grief hath come even upon me only through their showing to me my beloved.
1172. How is it that the Eyes that looked rashly on the beloved that day grieve to-day, instead of bearing patiently the consequences of their own folly ?
1173. They looked on him straightway of their own free will that day, and to-day they weep of themselves: how they make themselves ridiculous !
1174. After bequeathing to me the incurable grief that consumeth me, my Eyes have now dried up, having exhausted their store of tears.
1175. 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.
