If the rose with its beauty and the jasmine with its fine three petals
see Your face,
if they reach You,
they all grow so big, so beautiful.
O my beautiful One, life is Your rose garden.
O my Beloved, the wound You open
is luck and prosperity for me.
To be a slave to Your slave Is far greater than being a king or a sultan.
You said, “I offer you life.”
Please don’t say that.
Say instead, “I will kill you.”
That way, I will become brighter and more alive, like a candle with its wick cut.
What does a devout person look for?
Your mercy.
What does a lover search for?
Your wound, Your oppression, Your cruelty.
One is death, dressed.
The other is alive in his coffin.
One runs for his life.
The other sacrifices himself to Love.
One keeps his head down to save his life.
The other becomes an enemy to himself.
O One who shines in my soul like a sun entering the sign of Aries!
O One who turns me into Yemen’s ruby with the light of His face!
The Divan-i Kebir, Volume 1, ghazal 96, verses 1197-1202, page 229.