Why do my Eyes complain to me today? This inconsolable grief hath come even upon me only through their showing to me my beloved.

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?

They looked on him straightway of their own free will that day, and today they weep of themselves: how they make themselves ridiculous!

After bequeathing to me the incurable grief that consumeth me, my Eyes have now dried up, having exhausted their store of tears.

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.

Oh, it is a sweet revenge to me that the Eyes that caused me this sorrow are victims themselves to the selfsame anguish!

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!

Verily there be those who love without being loved! For here are my eyes which know no repose for not seeing him.

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.

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.