غزل شمارهٔ 2039

Go, lay your head on the pillow, let me alone; leave me ruined and night-faring and afflicted as I am.

I am wrestling with the wave of passion alone through night till day; if you will, come and have mercy; if you will, go and be cruel.

Flee from me that you too may not fall into calamity; choose the path of safety, leave the path of calamity.

We with our tears flowing have crept in the corner of grief; turn the mill a hundred times upon our tears.

A tyrant we have who has a heart like flint; he slays, and no one says to him, “Prepare to pay the blood-money.”

To the king of the lovely ones faithfulness is not obligatory; pale lover, you endure, be faithful.

This is a pain of which no cure exists but to die, so how shall I say, “Cure this pain?”

Last night in a dream I saw an elder in the quarter of love: he beckoned to me with his hand, saying, “Set out towards me.”

If a dragon is on the path, love is like an emerald; with the flash of this emerald repel the dragon.

Enough, for I am beside myself, if you would be a man of superior learning, recite the history of B¯u ‘Al¯ı, and admonish Bu’l-‘Al¯a.