صنف کے تحت کتاب
یہ صفحہ صرف صنفِ غزل کے تحت آنے والی نظمیں دکھاتا ہے۔
Do not fling stones at the factory of glassmaking, do not strike anew the wounded heart of the broken-hearted.
You have come in order to expound my secret to all, to reveal and indicate that signless king.
The sand has become satiated with the water; I have not become, bravo! No string in this world is there to fit my long bow.
Restless heart of mine, say, of what substance are you? Of fire? Of water? Of man? Of peri?
Do not heap snow on yourself, lest you congeal; your snow will make you congeal even though you be the furnace of fire.
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.