غزل شمارهٔ 1158

Who has compassion on a friend? A friend likewise. Who hears the sigh of the sick? The sick.

Where are the tears of sympathetic spring, that they may fill the thorn’s skirt with roses?

Mention often the demolisher of joy; give ear to pitiless autumn.

The cave becomes paradise, when he is in it: the second of two, when the two were in the Cave.

Heaven splits in two at the sigh of a lover; the lamentation of lovers is not to be despised.

Heaven revolves for the sake of lovers; on account of love the sky spins around,

Not for the sake of baker and smith, not for the sake of carpenter and druggist.

The skies rotate about love; rise, that we may also circle around.

Consider who said, “But for thee I would not have created”; Ah.mad the Chosen is the mine of love.

For a while let us circle about loverhood; how long shall we circle about this carrion?

Where is the eye to behold the spirits, putting their heads out from door and wall?

Door and wall tell subtleties, fire and earth and water rehearse a tale;

Like the balance, the yardstick and the touchstone they are without tongue, yet arbiters of the market.

Lover, circle about like the sky, silent from speaking, and altogether speech.