I went to Mount Sinai, like Moses.
There, I saw a sultan, the Sultan of sultans,
a charmer who attracts the heart, who adds Soul to souls.
Mount Sinai, the plains, the desert, all were shining with the light of His face.
They looked like they had all become eternal heaven.
Cupbearers with golden cups in their hands and faces as bright as the full moon
were standing in His presence.
Faces that had become as pale as saffron were shining from the light of His Beauty.
The ones who were the confidants of His assembly
were putting a trace of His dust on their eyes as salve.
The Earth had become exuberant from the melodies of His Love.
The sky kept whirling with the hope of union with Him.
That Sultan of sultans looked at Absence.
Then Absence came to life. He stepped to the head of existence with feet of zeal.
Players broke the frets of their instruments
so that His light would have no curtain in either world.
The shadows of kindness joined with the Sun of greatness,
then gathered all opposite things together.
The level of the maturity of His Love allowed opposites to be unified.
When the morning breeze snatched the veil from His face,
everyone’s image was broken into pieces and disappeared.
But, when their existences disappeared, every one of them became a hundred.
Existence appeared like Non-existence there,
and Non-existence appeared like existence.
I saw fragments of loyalty which looked like soul
flying in His air beyond this world.
They were all clean and bright.
At that moment, I felt ashamed in front of Him, so I untied my zunnar*
which i had been wearing because of my guilt.
“O my Beauty,” I said, “whose face is more beautiful than the moon,
I repent. Don’t refuse my repentance.”
He answered me, “You have a long way to go to see repentance.”
*zunnar A rope girdle worn by early Christians in Turkey.
Divan-i Kebir, Meter 8a, Gazel 17, Verses 148-161, Pages 31-33.