غزل شمارهٔ 1270

My drunkenness of today is not like yesterday’s drunkenness; do you not believe me? Take a glass, and drink!

I am drowned in wine; the waters have carried away my reason. Intellect said, “Farewell, I will not become sober again.”

Reason and intellect have departed in madness out of the world, like a pot overbrimming when it boils beyond measure.

This mad, intoxicated heart burst its bonds and escaped; do not argue with the drunkards—say nothing; depart; keep silent.

At dawn the watchman said to me from the ladder, “Last night I heard an uproar proceeding from the seventh heaven.

Saturn said to Venus, ‘Strike your plectrum more gently. Leo, seize Taurus by the horns and milk him.’

See how as a result of terror the milk in Taurus’ nipples has turned to blood! Behold how the Leo of the skies out of fear has become like a mouse!

Leo, charge fiercely; how long will you flee like a cur? Make display, O moon-faced one; how long will you veil your face?

Open your eyes to the six directions, behold the glittering of the light; open your ears to heaven, you whose eyes have become ears.

Hear the greeting from the Soul, that you may escape from speech; gaze upon the Form-fashioner, that you may escape from the forms.”

I said to him, “Master, go, say, let what will be be; I am pure and newly free, slave to the dregs-seller.”

Fear and hope for you are assigned to the reason; wild creatures are the game for your grain and snare.

Since the dregs of his anguish have taken me into protection, speak not to me of these things; that task is yours—do you labour!