غزل شمارهٔ 2820

When I reached your city you withdrew into a corner from me; when I left your city you did not give me a good-bye glance.

Whether you choose kindness or incline to rancor, you are all the soul’s ease, you are all the feast’s decoration.

The cause of your jealousy is that you are hidden, otherwise you are evident as the sun, for you are manifest through every mote.

If you choose to be in a corner, you are darling of the heart and a prince; and if you rend the veil, you have rent the veils of all.

The heart of unbelief by you is confounded, the heart of faith by your wine is happy; you have robbed all of their sense, you have pulled the ears of all.

All roses are a prey to December, all heads in pawn to wine; you have redeemed both these and those from the hand of death.

Since there is no constancy in the rose, since there is no way to the rose, on you only is trust to be put; you are the stay and support.

If a few have cut their hands on account of Joseph’s face, you have deprived two hundred Josephs of the spirit of heart and reason.

You fashion the form of a person from filth and blood, that he may flee two parsangs from the odor of foulness.

You make him a morsel of dust to become pure herbage—he escapes from foulness when you have breathed spirit into him.

Come, heart, go to heaven, go to God’s pasture, since you have grazed awhile in the pasture of cattle.

Set all your desire on that of which you have no hope, for out of original hopelessness you have reached thus far.

Be silent, that the lord who bestows words may speak; for He made the door and the lock, and He also made a key.