غزل شمارهٔ 15

Greed is acting still his play this world to dominate; what new turbulence, I pray, behind Heaven’s veil doth wait?

Now and now Mind breaketh through what idols it designed; come, for Love believeth true and infidel is Mind.

Thou’rt the Leader of the train; then labour fiercely still; in our tribe, he rule doth gain who hath a warrior’s will.

Thou hast closed thine eyes, and said, ‘The world’s a dream, no less’: Ope thine eyes; this dream-abed is all of wakefulness.

In thy solitude, alone, create a company: Love, that’s made to know the One, the many loves to see.

But an instant quivered be ere to the saddle bound – fortunate gazelle, to he so singled out to wound!

In the garden and the mead I sow my jeweled air; precious goods, yet cheap indeed when there are none to hear.