غزل شمارهٔ 638

The weary ones have all gone; close the door of the house; laugh all in union at aweary reason.

Come forth to the Ascension, since you are of the Prophet’s family; kiss the cheek of the moon, since you are on a high roof.

Since he split the moon, why are you clouds? Since he is sprightly and neat, why are you good-for-nothing?

Weary ones, why did you depart? For not like true men on this path did you like Farh¯ad and Shadd¯ad in a moment cleave through the mountain.

Since you are not moon-faced, turn not away from the moon-faced; since you are not in anguish, do not bandage your own heads.

Like that it did happen and like this; so it comes not right; do not know how you are, do not know how many you are!

When you beheld that fountain, why did you not become water? When you saw that Self, why did you approve your own selves?

Since you are in the mine of sugarcane, why are you sour of face? Since you are in the Water of Life, why are you dry and withered?

Do not contend so, do not flee from felicity; what possibility of flight is there, seeing that you are in the toils of the lasso?

You are caught in the lasso from which there is no security; do not writhe, do not writhe, do not scrape against the shuttle.

Like self-sacrificing moths rub against this candle; why are you dedicated to the companion? Why are you attached to the chain?

Burn at this candle, light up your heart and soul, put on a new body when you have flung away this old one.

Why are you afraid of the fox? You are of lion stock. Why are you lame asses, since you are of the loins of the swift horse?

The Friend Himself is coming, the door of felicity is opening, for that friend is the key; you are all locks.

Be silent, for speech has swallowed you down; the purchaser is like a parrot, and you are all sugar-candy.