شاعر: رومی
وزن: مفاعیلن مفاعیلن مفاعیلن مفاعیلن (هزج مثمن سالم)
I circumambulate with the pilgrims, I circle around the Beloved; I have not the character of dogs, I do not go around carrion.
I am like a gardener; shovel laid on my neck, searching for a cluster of dates I go around the thorns—
Not the kind of dates which, when you have eaten them, turn to phlegm and make one bilious, but the kind that makes wings to grow so that I circle like T. aiy¯ar.
The world is a snake, and below it is a treasure very hidden; I am on top of the treasure, and circle about it like the tail of a snake.
I am not grieving for a grain, though about this house I circle deep in thought like the heron.
I do not seek a house in the village, neither ox and fat herd, but I am intoxicated with the Prince and circle seeking the Prince.
I am the companion of Khid.ar and momently seek his approach, foot fast and circling, for like compasses I circle.
Do you not know that I am sick? For I am seeking Galen; do you not see that I am crop-sick? For I circle the vintner.
Do you not know that I am Simurgh? For I fly around Q¯af; do you not know that I have caught the scent? For I circle about the rosebower.
Count me not one of these men; recognize a phantom circling; if I am not a phantom, O soul, why do I circle about the secrets?
Why do I not become still? I beat about this and that, for he has unminded me and made me drunk, therefore I circle unevenly.
You say to me, “Go not so hurriedly, for that shows disrespect”; I am ashamed of respect, therefore I circle shame.
I made bread my pretext, but I am intoxicated with the baker; it is not about gold I circle, I circle about vision.
In every image which confronts me I behold the engraver; know that it is for love of Lail¯a that like Majn¯un I circle.
In this palace of self-sacrificers in which is not contained even the head, I, bewildered, am pardonable if I circle without a turban.
I am not a flame-moth burning my wings and pinions, I am a moth of the King, for I circle about the lights.
Why do you bite my lips privily saying, “Be silent, do not speak”? Is it not your doing, your craft too that I circle about speech?
Come, Shams-i Tabr¯ız¯ı, like twilight although you flee; like twilight in the track of your sun I circle about these lands.