I really keep turning around bad luck, keep borrowing trouble
when I turn around myself, my illusions instead of You.
When I wake up in the morning half drunk, I go straight to my Cupbearer.
I turn around Him. I ask for His help, His favor.
People turn around a few, limited morsels.
Instead, I look for the Creator’s endless blessings and turn around them.
The origin of this universe is boundless; so is its presence.
They both come from the limitless Universe.
Don’t blame me if I turn endlessly.
The one who made a rose garden out of my grave-like chest
did not see that I deserved that graveyard.
What is the grave? The soul does not even fit in the sky.
I have given up the five senses and the six dimensions
and turn around the one and only God.
Although I am a shiny mirror,
it might be necessary to turn around a piece of wool for a few days.
If I were a rose, I would turn into a rose garden because of that spring.
If I were one with that Union, I would become a hundred bodies.
This body is frustrated among all these different shapes.
Now that I have become a mirror, why should I turn around the body?
I should get out to pasture among the stable of words.
I am not a mule that is tied.
Why should I turn around this pole?
Divan-i Kebir, Meter 7b, Gazel 184, Verses 2524-2533, Pages 126-127.