There was never a day when the thought of your face did not bring the turmoil of Doomsday upon me, nor a night when lost in the thought of your locks, a crowd of calamities did not hover over my head.

Notice the gorgeous symmetry here: the poet pairs the beloved's radiant face with the daylight, and their dark, tangled locks with the night. In classical poetry, remembering the beloved isn't a gentle reverie; it is an all-consuming tempest. Every day brings the scorching chaos of Judgment Day, and every night hangs heavy with a cloud of troubles, revealing that in passionate love, there is never a single moment of quiet escape.