غزل شمارهٔ 1663

Every day I bear a burden, and I bear this calamity for a purpose:

I bear the discomfort of cold and December’s snow in hope of spring.

Before the fattener-up of all who are lean, I drag this so emaciated body;

Though they expel me from two hundred cities, I bear it for the sake of the love of a prince;

Though my shop and house be laid waste, I bear it in fidelity to a tulip bed.

God’s love is a very strong fortress; I carry my soul’s baggage inside a fortress.

I bear the arrogance of every stonehearted stranger for the sake of a friend, of one long-suffering;

For the sake of his ruby I dig out mountain and mine; for the sake of that rose-laden one I endure a thorn.

For the sake of those two intoxicating eyes of his, like the intoxicated I endure crop sickness;

For the sake of a quarry not to be contained in a snare, I spread out the snare and decoy of the hunter.

He said, “Will you bear this sorrow till the Resurrection?” Yes, Friend, I bear it, I bear it.

My breast is the Cave and Shams-i Tabr¯ız¯ı is the Companion of the Cave. I bear ridicule for the sake of the Companion of the Cave.