Who are You that You envelope all of the world in my heart?
You are the epigram of the world.
I wonder which epigram is Your favorite!
Who are You? Who am I?
What is Your name? What is my name?
What kind of seed are You?
What kind of snare am I?
In reality, You are neither this nor that.
You have a brush in Your hand.
The world is like a painting in front of You.
You paint it. You fill in this side, then erase and scrape away that side.
When You put down the brush,
You give Him such a shape that even the words,
“You will never see Me,”
illuminate everything, everywhere.
The body wants soul, and it keeps running after it.
But, the body cannot be soul just by chasing it.
The world and language are the result of God’s favor.
But, a story of spoken words can’t match such a flame.
Although roses, thorns, gardens and meadows are the work of the heart,
all these things can’t possess the beauty of the sky.
Light such a fire that it burns all of your tracks.
When all of your tracks are gone,
you will reach Essence.
My Beloved has left and so has my soul.
Both of them are in the Land of Absence,
hiding behind the curtain of the mind.
Air in that city is like the air of Spring.
Hearts are rejuvenated by that air.
So are gardens and everything else.
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 22, Ghazal 49, verses 488-497, pages 116-117.