غزل شمارهٔ 566

A fair idol that all the night teaches tricks to Venus and the moon, his two eyes by witchery sew up the two eyes of heaven.

Look out for your hearts, Moslems, for I at all events am so commingled with Him that no heart is commingled with me.

First I was born of His love, finally I gave my heart to Him; when fruit is born of a branch, from that branch it hangs.

I am fleeing from my own shadow, for the light is hidden from the shadow; where shall he rest at last who flees from his shadow?

The tip of His tress is saying, “Ha, quick, to the rope-trick!” The cheek of His candle is saying, “Where is the moth, that it may burn?”

For the sake of that rope-trick be brave, and become a hoop; fling yourself into the fire, when His candle is kindled.

When you have seen the joy of burning you will no more endure without the flame; even if the water of life came to you, it would not stir you from the flame.