Go. Open the eye of your soul and look for lovers.
They’re like the heart
in an upside-down gathering,
an assembly that has no head, no feet.
Those lovers all keep working with out earning, without profit.
They are all boiling like a kettle.
They are all without curtains or drapes.
Their hearts are open in front of His commands.
Whatever comes, they accept.
Their hearts are more cheerful than the garden and rose,
more free than the cypress.
They are above mind and thought, cleaner than the Fountain of Life.
They have passed through the waves of the blood’s sea
without getting smeared with even one drop of blood.
They are pure and clean.
They are surrounded by thorns, but like a rose.
They are in jail, but like wine.
They are encased in mud, but like the heart.
They are immersed in night, but like the dawn.
They are in air, like particles.
The sun is like a robe of honor for them.
They step in mud, but appear in the middle of the heart.
You also become company to their soul, if only for an instant.
You drink their wine from their cup.
You become nice and drunk and pass beyond good and bad
with their wine.
Enough now, son. Be silent.
Not every bird can swallow figs.
Parrots eat sugar.
For Ravens, it’s something else.
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 1, Ghazal 61, verses 778-785, pages 149-150.