غزل شمارهٔ 2674

Ho, water of life, turn me about like a mill with plenty.

So continue, that forever and ever my scattered heart may be in one place, I in another.

Twig and leaf move not save by a wind; straw-blade flies not without amber.

Since a straw moves not save by a wind, how shall the world move without desire?

All the parts of the world are lovers, and every part of the universe is drunk with encounter;

Only they do not tell you their secrets—it is not proper to tell the secret save to one worthy.

The grazers, whose pasture grazes on the cup and table of the sweet lord.

Did not the ants tell their secret to Solomon, did not the mountain echo back to David?

Were this heaven not a lover, his breast would not be serene;

And if the sun had not been a lover, there would be no radiance in his beauty.

If earth and mountain were not lovers, no blade of grass would spring from their breasts;

If the sea were not aware of love, it would finally come to rest somewhere.

Be a lover, that you may know the lover; be faithful, that you may see the Faithful.

Heaven did not accept the burden of trust, for it was in love and afraid to make a mistake.