غزل شمارهٔ 940

Love for you took away my rosary and gave verses and songs; I cried “No strength (save with God)” and repented oft, but my heart did not heed.

At Love’s hand I became a singer of odes, hand-clapping; love for you consumed reputation and shame and all that I possessed.

Once I was chaste and self-denying and firm-footed as a mountain; what mountain is there that your wind did not carry away like chaff?

If I am a mountain, yet I hold the echo of your voice; and if I am chaff, in your fire I am reduced to smoke.

When I saw your being, I became nonexistent out of shame; out of the love of this nonexistence the world of soul came into being.

Wherever nonexistence comes, existence diminishes—brave nonexistence, from which, when it came, existence augmented!

Heaven is blue, earth like a blind squatter on the road; he who beholds your moon escapes from blind-and-blue.

The likeness of the soul of a great saint hidden in the body of the world is the likeness of Ah.mad the Messenger amidst the Guebres and Jews.

To praise you in reality is to praise oneself, for he who praises the sun thereby praises his own eyes.

Your praise is as the sea, our tongue is a ship; the soul voyages on the sea, and its end is praiseworthy.

The tender care of the sea is for me like wakeful fortune; why should I grieve, if my eye is stained with sleep?