غزل شمارهٔ 563

My heart, be seated near that person who has experience of the heart, go under that tree which bears fresh blossoms.

Go not in every direction as do idlers in this druggists’ market; sit in the shop of someone who has sugar in his shop.

If you have no balance, then every one waylays you; one man adorns a counterfeit coin, and you imagine that he has gold;

Cheatingly he sets you by the door, saying, “I am coming”—do not sit expectant at the door, for that house has two doors.

Do not bring your cup to every pot that seethes, and do not sit there, for every seething pot has within it something else.

Not every reed holds sugar; not every under has an over; not every eye has sight; not every sea holds pearls.

Lament, singing nightingale, because the drunkard’s lament has some effect, some effect even on rocks and stones.

Put aside your head if you have no room, for if the thread is not contained in the eye of the needle that is because it has a head.

This wakeful heart is a lantern; hold it under your skirt; pass away from this wind and air, for the air puts it into commotion.

When you have passed away from the wind you have become a dweller in a fountain, you have become companion to a confederate who pours cooling water on the heart.

When you have water on your heart, you are like a green tree which constantly yields new fruit, and journeys within the Heart.