Give yourself a kiss, silvery-bodied idol; you who are in Cathay, do not search for yourself in Khotan.
If you would draw a silvery-bodied one into your bosom, where is the like of you? You must kiss the Beloved, then caress your own mouth.
For the sake of your beauty are the robes of the houris; the beauty of every man or woman is the reflection of your lovely face.
The veil over your beauty is the tresses of your hair, else the light of you would have shone out, O sweet of chin.
The painter of the body came towards the idols of the thoughts; his hand and heart were broken, his mouth stood open.
This painted cage is the veil of the bird of the heart; you have not recognized the heart because of the heart-breaking cage.
The heart flung off the veil from the clay of Adam, and all of the angels prostrated themselves.
The intermediary would vanish if only for a moment love’s Turk sat down before his grace, saying, “O Chelebi, who are you?”
The eye would be endowed with sight of the unseen, if the glance of Shams-i D¯ın, Pride of all of Tabriz, stole a wink at you.
