غزل شمارهٔ 2076

By your own life I implore, do not withdraw from this heartless wretch; suffer me still, do not make for your house.

Do not think of pretexts, leave excuses aside; treat me not aloofly, be not haughty.

Wine is at hand, fortune our boon companion, and you the saki; give the wine, play not saki’s frauds.

Cast your glance at your companions who are drunk with you, do not gaze at window and porch and threshold.

Pass not your time save in the lovers’ circle, make not your nest save in the tavern quarter.

See, the world is a snare and desire the bait; hasten not into its snare, desire not the bait.

When you have passed out of its snare, set your foot on the sky; let naught but the sphere of the threshold be under your feet.

Heed not sunshine and moonshine; be alone, and seek only that Alone.

Rest not without Him, like a bowl tossed on the water; do not take the bowl and set it running to every kitchen.

Time is bright and dark, warm and cold in turns; make not your abode save at the fountainhead of time.

Praise him not, neither cover him with reproaches; offer not pastries, and do not throw forward that garlic.

But what is the use? For such are the ways of vain idols. Do not say to the brand of fire, “Do not make a flame.”

Say to whatever your burn, “Burn,” save with separation; that is not allowable, do not perpetuate this one tyranny either.