You have the attribute of God; when you enter any breast, you display from that breast the glow of Mount Sinai.
You have the attribute of a lamp; when you enter a house by night, all the house receives light from the splendor of your brightness.
You have the attribute of wine; when you are in an assembly you kindle two thousand tumults and riots with your sweet graciousness.
When joy is fled, when passion is flown, what grasses and roses grow when you sweetly act the water-carrier!
When the world is frozen, when gaiety is dead, what other worlds you open out of the unseen!
From you comes this importunity in the heart of the restless ones; otherwise what acquaintance would dark earth have with brightness?
You are the sky about the earth revolving night and day; O sky, what do you want of us? Are you not the source of all light?
Now you scatter rain, now you sift the earth; you are not a seeker of filings, after all, you are all mine and touchstone.
Like men seeking filings night and day you sift the earth; why do you worship earth? Are you not the qibla of all prayers?
What wonder if a beggar seeks a gift from a king? This is the wonder—that a king begs from a beggar.
Even more amazing is this—the king has gone so far in petition that the beggar falls into error and thinks he is king.
Sky, are you not king? Is not the earth your slave? Then why are you in the air night and day serving the earth?
The sky answers me, “No one moves without reason; if a straw flies, that is due to some amber.”
My words are meat to the angels; if I speak no words, the hungry angels say, “Speak, why are you silent?”
You are not of the angels, what do you know of angels’ food? What should you make of manna? You deserve chives.
What do you know of this pottage that comes from the kitchen of the brain, where God acts the householder night and day?
Tabriz, say to Shams al-Din, “Turn your face to us.” I err—say, “O sun, all face without a back!”
