What kind of shame is it exactly that the lover feels, and why? In a nice mushairah touch, the first line refuses to tell us, forcing us to wait for the second. There are several possibilities, not mutually exclusive of course: (1) He's not responding to the season in general as he should. Responsiveness to seasons is a valued sign of a properly 'open' heart and eye. In particular, springtime is intoxicating and is linked with intoxication; for the best illustration of this, see 49 , with its seasonal 'wave of wine'. Wine-drinking too is linked to times and seasons, as in the lovely 97,13 . (2) He's not responding to the spring breeze itself, and is thus seeming to cast doubt on its powers of intoxication. The spring breeze is a powerful source of intoxication in its own right, as in 49,2 . So his 'glass without wine' is an image of his unintoxicated heart. Why wouldn't the spring breeze be offended or hurt, if its blandishments prove so vain? (3) He's not responding even to the rose, the archetypal image of the beloved. This, in a lover, is of course the cardinal sin. There's a fine wordplay here, because can be both 'desire of/for the rose' and 'breeze/air of the rose' (on this see 8,3 ). The latter meaning elegantly evokes both the spring breeze itself, and also the perfume of the rose that the spring breeze wafts to the lover-- but it's a perfume that doesn't, alas, penetrate to his heart. Why is the lover so unresponsive, so derelect in his duty? It's not because he's brazen and shameless, not because he has joined the ranks of the 'worldly' people who are immune to the powers of love. His sense of shame is proof that he knows his duty, and would do it if he could. But probably he's a 'burnt-out case' by now, with no heart left to respond. Of all the verses that describe the lover's wrecked, lost, ruined heart, perhaps the simplest is 41,1 . That stark, plain second line says it all. graphics/emptywineglass.jpg