غزل شمارهٔ 181

The heart is like a grain of corn, we are like a mill; how does the mill know why this turning?

The body is like a stone, and the water its thoughts; the stone says, “The water knows what is toward.”

The water says, “Ask the miller, for it was he who flung this water down.”

The miller says to you, “Bread-eater, if this does not turn, how shall the crumb-broth be?”

Much business is in the making; silence, ask God, that He may tell you.