غزل شمارهٔ 3079

We have come once again to a lord to whose knee no sea reaches.

Tie together a thousand minds, they will not reach Him; how shall a hand or foot reach the moon in heaven?

The sky stretched out its throat eagerly to Him; it found no kiss, but it swallowed a sweetmeat.

A thousand throats and gullets stretched towards His lip. “Scatter too on our heads manna and quails.”

We have come again to a Beloved, from whose air a shout has reached our ears.

We have come again to that sanctuary to bow the brow which is to surpass the skies.

We have come again to that meadow to whose bolbol ‘anq¯a is a slave.

We have come to Him who was never apart from us; for the waterbag is never filled without the existence of a watercarrier.

The bag always clings to the body of the water-carrier, saying, “Without you, I have no hand or knowledge or opinion.”

We have come again to that feast with the sweet dessert of which the sugarcane chewer attained his desire.

We have come again to that sphere, in whose bent the soul roars like thunder.

We have come again to that love at whose contact the d¯ıv has become peri-like.

Silence! Seal the rest under your tongue, for a jealous tutor has been put in charge of you.

Speak not of the talk of the Pride of Tabriz, Shams-i D¯ın, for the rational mind is not suitable for that speech.