غزل شمارهٔ 762

The dead would rend his shroud and rise from the tomb, if that dead man had tidings of my Idol.

What will dead and living do when he discovers something of Him? For if the mountain beheld Him, it would leap and advance.

I will not flee from blame, for the blame comes from you; from your bitterness all the taste of sugar comes to the soul.

Devour whatever has come to you, leave it not to store up, for you are on the banks of a running stream—when you have drunk, more will come.

Behold His fair handiwork, listen to His inspiration to the hearts; become entirely light of vision—all rapture comes from vision.

Do not despair, saying, “My life is gone, and the Friend has not come”; He comes betimes and out of season, He comes not only at dawn.

Be watchful and wakeful in season and out of season, for suddenly our King enters the eyes like ‘Uzaiz¯ı antimony.

When He enters this eye, this eye becomes like the sea; when He gazes on the sea, out of all its waters pearls come;

Not such a dead pearl that knows not its own essence, pearls will come all speaking, all seeking, altogether alive.

What do you know, what do you know what kind of mind and soul you are? It is God who knows and sees the virtue that belongs to men.

Become accustomed to speak without lips, like a balance, for lips and teeth do not remain when one passes from the world.