Even though You wear course woolen stuff, You are the King of Kings.
Even though You are hidden from eyes,
You are the fire in the soul, the remembrance in the heart.
You entered as a form, dressed with shape.
But, You are actually in the sky, the pole for the nine-level sky, the lamp in it.
You have tied our being to the land of Absolute Absence.
You have given us failure and frustration so we could attain our desire.
You did this because You want only the lion and lion cub to reach Your temple,
Not the one whose legs are shakey.
You want that man to leave his head before he enters Your temple
And to hear the voice of, “O My creature,” without the use of his ears.
You journey over one month’s road in one day,
Because You are riding the wind, like Solomon.
What is gold? What is silver? Never mind money and wealth.
If You are generous, bring the storehouse of Soul and give Soul.
O my Beauty, to follow Your way, there is no need for a guide,
Because on this road, the one who goes and the one who guides
Are halo and moonlight.
The moon carries its light from place to place
Like the Arab drags his camel from stage to stage.
A large bouquet will come from the sweet basil
Which grows from the trouble You go through, the beliefs You hold.
Don’t blame Solomon for Your being lost. It doesn’t matter.
The Hoopoe bird is looking for You. That’s enough for You.
O my friend, this is just the beginning of salvation,
The beginning of reaching Your wishes.
Daylight has broken. Wake up from sleep.
The Sun is shining without cover or curtain.
Victory and help keep coming without any effort from You.
The soul is dipped into wine; the glass keeps turning.
Grief and sorrow have been chased away.
Thanks are getting longer.
Divan-i Kebir, Meter 2, Gazel 121, Verses 3256-3269, Pages 236-238