“Ah, from those lightning-casting, sweet, mischievous cheeks! A thunderbolt from its lightning has fallen on the soul of every helpless one!”
When before the row of pearls and rubies shone like fire, a sea of pearls surged out of the rock.
This heart torn into a hundred pieces gave a piece to the doorkeeper of the soul; when he emerged in the heart of the curtain, it became a better piece.
Paradise is divided into eight heavens, and one like a scroll; behold the eight scrolls contained in a sheet of a cheek.
What kind of bird is this heart of mine, kneeling like a camel, or fire-eating like an ostrich around a blaze!
Quarry of joy, this heart of mine shared the same shop with your love; it found a fine colleague and fellow-worker in that shop.
Through the sun of your love, the motes of the souls have become like the moon, and every moment a star of felicity comes into the sky.
Your form is invisible, yet relates every detail—like the Messiah through the light of Mary, the spirit of God in the cradle.
Shams-i Tabr¯ız¯ı, what inconsistency is there in the heart’s states, at once abiding in love and fugitive from love?
زمین
عقل و جانم برد شوخی آفتی عیارهای
باد دستی خاکیی بی آبی آتشپارهای
سناییدیوان اشعارغزلیاتغزل شمارهٔ 385
ای در آتش از هوایت نعل هر سیارهای
از بیابان تمنای تو خضر آوارهای
صائبدیوان اشعارغزلیاتغزل شمارهٔ 6656
ای خوشا عیشی که باشد ای خوشا نظارهای
چون به اصل اصل خویش آید چنین هر پارهای
رومیدیوان شمسغزلیاتغزل شمارهٔ 2805
