غزل شمارهٔ 2703

Do you not seek a sign of the separated ones? Where has gone that fidelity and affection?

The fishes are on this dry land of exile: come, water of the sea of life!

How long shall the fish remain out of its water? What am I to say? I do not know; you know.

Who am I to remain or not to remain? I desire you to remain in the world.

Let thousands of souls like me and better than me be your sacrifice, for you are the soul of the soul of the soul.

You say to me, “Be silent—have you not repented that you are leaving the road of tonguelessness?”

By the dust of your feet, I was not with myself out of drunkenness and wine and dizziness.

I am no better in silence than a vat; the wine does not remain hidden in the vat.

The wine of love is a more bubbling wine, for ordinary wine bubbles for a moment and this is ever-bubbling.

His face, red as the Judas blossom, does that which only a hundred jars of Judas-red wine can do.

I could describe his lips further but your mouth would burn if you were to recite it.

A strange waterfowl is the lover’s soul, bringing water as a present from fire;

Through fire, athirst, he discovered the joy of his water; fire makes a ladder to his water.