غزل شمارهٔ 322

I have come so that, tugging your ear, I may draw you to me, unheart and unself you, plant you in my heart and soul.

Rosebush, I have come a sweet springtide unto you, to seize you very gently in my embrace and squeeze you.

I have come to adorn you in this worldly abode, to convey you above the skies like lovers’ prayers.

I have come because you stole a kiss from an idol fair; give it back with a glad heart, master, for I will seize you back.

What is a mere rose? You are the All, you are the speaker of the command Say. If no one else knows you, since you are I, I know you.

You are my soul and spirit, you are my F¯atih. a-chanter; become altogether the F¯atih. a, so that I may chant you in my heart.

You are my quarry and game, though you have sprung from the snare; return back to the snare, and if you go not, I will drive you.

The lion said to me, “You are a wondrous deer; be gone! Why do you run in my wake so swiftly? I will tear you to pieces.”

Accept my blow, and advance forward like a hero’s shield; give your ear to naught but the bowstring, that I may bend you like a bow.

So many thousand stages there are from earth’s bounds to man; I have brought you from city to city, I will not leave you by the roadside.

Say nothing, froth not, do not raise the lid of the cauldron; simmer well, and be patient, for I am cooking you.

No, for you are a lion’s whelp hidden in a deer’s body: I will cause you suddenly to transcend the deer’s veil.

You are my ball, and you run in the curved mallet of my decree; though I am making you to run, I am still running in your track.