غزل شمارهٔ 2155

Say, how shall a part of the world depart from the world? How shall moisture escape from water, one leap from two?

No fire dies from another fire, my son; O my heart bleeding of love, wash not my blood in blood.

However much I fled, my shadow did not leave me; shadow must be in charge of me, even though I become as the thread of a hair.

Only the sun has the power to drive away shadows, the sun increases and diminishes them; seek this from the sun.

Though for two thousand years you are running in the back of the shadow, in the end you will see that you are behind and the shadow before.

Your sin has become your service, your pain your blessing, your candle your darkness, your bonds seeking and questing.

I would explain this, only it would break the back of your heart; when you break the glass of the heart, repairs are of no avail.

You must have both shadow and light together; listen to me, lay your head down and prostrate yourself before the tree of the fear of God.

When from the tree of His grace wings and feathers sprout for you, be silent as a dove, do not open your mouth for cooing.

When a frog enters water, the snake cannot reach it; the frog croaks and gives information so that the snake knows where he is.

Even though the cunning frog should hiss like a snake, the feeble frog-sound of his betrays the true voice.

If the frog were silent, the snake would be his prey: when it retires into its corner, the barleycorn and grain become a treasure.

When the golden barleycorn has become a treasure, it does not diminish in the earth; the barleycorn of the soul becomes a treasure when it attains the treasure of H¯u.

Shall I finish these words, or shall I squeeze them again? Yours is the decree; what am I, O gracious king?