Love is flying to the sky
and tearing hundreds of curtains.
Love is to be free from the self in the first breath,
to be lifted above the feet from the first step.
Love is to consider this world unseen
and to see one’s own eye.
O heart, I said, “Congratulations
on reaching the circle of lovers.
“O to look into that land of glance,
to run through the streets of hearts!
“O heart, where did this breath come from?
Why all this fluttering and struggling?
“O bird, talk with the language of the birds.
I understand those words.”
My heart said, “I was in the workplace.
I ran towards the house of mud.
“I flew from the house of art
and arrived at the palace of the One who creates art.”
They keep pulling me up when I lose my feet.
How can I explain the composition of forms?
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 14, Gazal 137, Verses 1517-1526, Pages 37-38.