غزل شمارهٔ 2357

Your heart has become like granite rock, and what can be done with granite rock?

What can glass do with granite rock, except become shattered to pieces.

You laugh like the true dawn that the star may yield its life before you.

Since love opened its bosom, thought has fled into boundary;

When patience perceived that flight, it too escaped on horse.

Patience and reason are gone; passion remained, weeping and in a fever.

Some men, being separated from your wine, are fallen on the road like dregs;

Though their livers have turned to blood, yet they are nimble and reckless on this path.

Because of this business we have become strangers to reason and to the busybody heart.

Love is the reality of command; poetry is the drum of indication.

Beware, for our prince is galloping, every morning he is on a raid.

Leave this theme of loneliness and separation, out of terror of which descriptive language breaks.

The imam has fled; muezzin, be silent, descend from the minaret.