غزل شمارهٔ 2170

All my six directions, Beloved, are graven with your beauty, you shine in the mirror, since it has been polished by you.

The mirror sees you according to the measure of its breadth; how shall the shapes of your perfection be contained in the mirror?

The sun asked your sun, “When shall I see you?” It replied, “I shall rise in the time of your setting.”

You cannot travel freely in this direction, for like a camel your ropes, O reason, have bound your knees.

How is it that reason, whose splendor is not contained in the seven heavens, entered your snare and bag, O love?

This reason became one grain of the harvest of love, and all your feathers and wings became trapped by that grain.

You plunged once into the sea of the life of God, you saw eternal spirit [life], that spirit became your bane.

Of what use is this [reason’s] kingship beside the sovereignty of your love? Of what use his pomp beside your pomp and majesty?

See in the world’s ears now a hundred golden rings because of the grace of your answering, out of joy of your questioning.

Raw ones who never received refined gold from your hand are happy with your stones and shards instead of gold.

A hundred skies revolve around your earth, a hundred full moons prostrate before your crescent moon.

With you our carnal soul’s dog plays foxy tricks, for the lion prostrates before your jackal.

Like day and night, footless we are journeying, O soul, since every moment from heaven arrives your “Come up!”

What shall be our darkness in the presence of your light? What our evil deeds with your beneficence?

By day we revolve about your tree like a shadow, by night till dawn we lament, secure from your wearying.

Yearning for your reproach, Adam came from the high seat of Paradise down to your vestibule.

The heart’s sea thunders and boils with your praise, but I have closed my lips, yearning for your discourse.