Book in this metre
This page shows only poems in the metre مفاعلن فعلاتن مفاعلن فعلن (مجتث مثمن مخبون محذوف).
What king is He who fashions a king out of dust, for the sake of one or two beggars makes Himself a beggar!
On the day of death, when my bier is on the move, do not suppose that I have any pain at leaving this world.
Love took away sleep from me—and love takes away sleep, for love purchases not the soul and mind for so much as half a barleycorn.
Henceforward the nightingale in the garden will tell of us, it will tell of the beauty of that heart-ravishing Beloved.
Love for you makes me oblivious to my own kindred, for love of you has rooted up the foundations of well-being;
Love for you took away my rosary and gave verses and songs; I cried “No strength (save with God)” and repented oft, but my heart did not heed.
At the night prayer, when the sun declines to sinking, this way of the senses is closed and the way to the Unseen is opened.