غزل شمارهٔ 2830

Ho, watchman of the dwelling, what sort of watchman are you? For the night-thief secretly carries off all our baggage.

Throw cold water on your face, rise up and make a tumult, for because of your sleepiness all our profit has been turned to loss.

Night and the sleep of watchmen are a thief’s lamp; why do you not extinguish their lamp with a breath?

Give over being idle; be a night-traveler like the stars. What do you fear of earthly beings, since you are a celestial rider?

Two or three barks of a dog do not cut off the road to horsemen; what shall a dog or a hay-fed ox snatch from a fierce lion?

What effect have the dog of wrath and the ox of lust on a lion who rends asunder the ranks of vision in the thicket of realities?

Were you not two drops of water, that now you make an ark and a Noah to run to left and right midst the waves of the flood?

Since God is your protection, what peril threatens the road for you? Your cap reaches the sky, for you are the head of all heads.

What an excellent path it is, with God as companion; the hard journey would become like eternal Paradise.

Do not say, “What present shall I bring as a token?” Their own face is enough as a present to the sun and moon.

Whether you go or not, your felicity is running, discharging all the business in tranquillity and love.

When fortune is your slave it does you a thousand services, for it cannot do without you, even though you drive it from the door.

Sleep sweetly, for luck does not sleep on your account; take a stone in your hand, for it will become a ruby of the mine.

Mount heaven like Jesus; say, let me see like Moses, for God will not say to you, “Silence, thou shall not see Me.”

Silence, O heart; yet what use, if you block the lid of the jar? The heart of the vat will split when those truths ferment.

Every moment two thousand times you will recite this poem, if you realize how it travels beyond realities.