غزل شمارهٔ 2927

Do you know where you have come? From the midst of allglorious sanctuary.

Do you not remember at all those happy spiritual stages?

Those things have become forgotten by you, so necessarily you are bewildered and distraught.

You sell my soul for a handful of dust; what kind of bargain and sale is this?

Give back the dust, and know your own worth; you are not a slave, you are a king, an emperor.

For your sake there came out of heaven the fair-faced ones, the sweetly hidden.