غزل شمارهٔ 968

A little apple, half red and half yellow, made tale of rose and saffron.

When the lover became parted from the beloved, the beloved carried off the airs of pride, the lover the pains.

These two contrary hues through a single separation have displayed {love} on the cheeks of both.

It is not appropriate for the beloved’s cheeks to be yellow; for the lover to be red and fat is unseemly.

Since the beloved has begun to show airs, endure his airs, lover, and do not battle against them.

I am like a thorn and my master is as the rose; they are twain, in reality they are one.

He is as the sun, and I am the shadow; his is the heat of continuance, mine the cold.

Goliath went out against Toliath; David measured well the links.

The heart was born of the body but is the king of the body, even as man is born of woman.

Again within the heart there is a heart hidden, like a horseman hidden in dust;

The stirring of the dust is caused by the horseman—it is he who caused this dust to dance.

No chess is it, for you to apply your thoughts; with trust in God fling away your counter like dice.

Shams-i Tabr¯ız is the sun of the heart; that heat nurtured the fruits of the heart.