غزل شمارهٔ 115

O soul and stay of every soul, who bestow wings and set the spirits in motion,

With you, what fear have we of loss, you who convert all losses to gain?

Alas for the arrows of the glances and the brows curved like bows!

You have sugared the ruby lips of fair idols, you have opened those mouths in desire.

You who have put a key in our hand and therewith opened the door of the worlds,

If you be not in the midst of us, then why are those waists close-girdled?

And if yours is not the wine without token, of what are these tokens testimony?

And if you are beyond our surmise, yet through whom are these surmises living?

And if you are hidden from our world, from whom do the hidden things become manifest?

Let go the tales of this world; we have grown aweary of them.

The soul that has fallen into the sugar-sprinkler—how should such things be contained in its heart?

He who has become the earth for your feet, how should he be mindful of the heavens?

Bind up our tongue with your protection; cast us not forth into the midst of these tongues.