غزل شمارهٔ 110

Do you break our harp, exalted one; thousands of other harps are here.

Since we have fallen into the clutches of love, what matters it if we lose harp or reed pipe?

If the whole world’s rebeck and harp should be consumed, many a hidden harp there is, my friend;

The twanging and strumming mounts to the skies, even if it does not enter the ears of the deaf.

If the whole world’s lamp and candle should flicker out, what cause for sorrow is that, since flint and steel still remain?

Songs are spindrift on the face of the sea; no pearl comes on the surface of the sea;

Yet know that the grace of the spindrift derives from the pearl, the reflection of the reflection of whose gleam is upon us.

Songs are all but a branch of the yearning for union; branch and root are never comparable.

Close your lips, and open the window of the heart; by that way be conversant with the spirits.