I would have shown my face to you if I were not wholly soul; the sign of me would have been seen were I not without sign.
Silver of bosom, am I not gold? Ruby of lips, am I not jewel? I would have shown my gold-essence were I not in the mine.
Your grace does not let me, else I would drive away all the people of the world in desire of you, O sugar, like a fly.
The rosebush of the soul said to your love, “Did I not fear, I would be all tongue like the lily.”
Men say, “You are a reasonable man, for a moment come to yourself.” I reply, “If I were like this, for a moment I would be like that.”
If the silver-robed moon were worthy of your street, I would take him by the waist and draw him along to you.
If the wave of passion for your love let me be for a moment, I would extinguish all fires and be the salvation of lovers.
If he had not sewed up my eye of time with the arrow of jealousy, I would be openly and visibly like a bow in his hand.
This is a symbol and metonymy for Tabriz and Shams-i D¯ın; ah, how would it be if I had been an interpreter before him.
