O Beloved, we are Your guest tonight.
Wait! Why did we say, “tonight?”
We are Yours day and night, every day and every night.
We are at Your table in front of Your bowl,
wherever we are, wherever we go.
We are the pictures which are drawn by Your skillful hand.
We are developed by Your kindness, nourished by Your bread.
We have been born under Your sign, like a pigeon.
When we fly, we keep flying around Your tower, Your tent.
“Wherever you are, turn your face towards it,” You said.
We are also calling Your genie with the glass of our heart.
You paint a new picture in our brain every moment.
We are like a piece of paper
on which Your writing and Your name are written.
Like Moses, we are drinking very little milk from the nanny,
because we have become drunk form the milk of Your breast.
We are safe from the thief, the tricks of the robber,
because we are in Your harem, Your treasure, like gold.
Either drunk or calm, our soul is like that,
either agile or slow because of that Soul.
We are the ones who move the golden ball of destiny.
How could we not? We are Your club.
You make us into either a ball or a club.
We are on Your ground.
This glory is enough for us.
You make us into either a staff or a snake.
We are the miracle of Moses.
We are Your proof.
If You make us into a staff, we beat the leaves with it.
In times of war and struggle, we become Your dragon.
Love supports us.
Our face smiles thanks to Your garden, Your meadow.
The light which melts and makes shadows disappear
casts shadows for us.
We are on Your scale, like the Moon.
You open this mouth.
You close this mouth.
It is on Your string.
We are Your leather bag.
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 9, Ghazal 85, verses 908-923, pages 137-138.