غزل شمارهٔ 528

Who is that, who is that who makes the breast sorrowful, then when you make complaint before Him, He turns your bitter sweet?

First He appears as a deaf adder, lastly He is a treasure of pearls. Sweet King, who in a moment transforms that bitterness to goodness!

Let it be a demon, He makes it into a houri, let it be a funeral, He makes it into a marriage-feast; and He makes knowing and world-beholding one blind from his mother’s womb.

He makes the dark bright, He makes the thorn into a rosebud; He draws the thorn out of your palm, and fashions you a pillow of roses.

For the sake of Abraham His friend He causes the fire to flame, and converts Nimrod’s furnace into blossoms and eglantine.

He who gives light to the stars and succour to the helpless, He benefits His servant, and too applauds His servant.

He causes all the sins of the sinners to scatter like December leaves; into the ears of those who speak Him ill He recites forgiveness of sin.

He says, “Say, O Faithful One, pardon the sin of one who slipped”; when a servant enters upon prayer, He secretly says Amen.

It is His amen which gives a man joy in his prayer; like a fig, He is inwardly and outwardly alike sweet and pleasant.

It is rapture which in good and evil gives strength to hand and foot, for this rapture mates the strength of a Rustam to the body of a poor wretch.

With rapture the poor wretch is a Rustam, without rapture Rustam is one full of grief; but for rapture, how would the Friend of the Soul stablish the soul?

I sent forth my heart timely (for it knows swiftly to travel the way), to carry the description of Shams-i D¯ın to the Tabriz of fidelity.