On Giving Counsel

Company of lovers, the union draws near. Cream of lovers, do not wander off; come here. Dear friends, rise up, do not sleep. Drink from His cup a stream of wine. How long will you stay blind to yourself? What a pity! Your commanding self is swinging its blade at your neck. You, prisoner of this world's pleasure, what has it been? What gain, besides loss, has our ill-natured self brought us? How long will you beg from people, crumb by crumb? In the end, my soul, how long this pretense of being a king? Your whole kingdom is scattering to the wind. How long will you go on living in such disgrace? You show not a wisp of smoke from the fire of true zeal. Dust on your head, you who are a shame to existence! What sorrow! Screened off by the treacherous self, you stayed unaware of the eternal Beloved. By the spells of this world, this house of vanity, you were kept far from the forgiving Lord of the world. You were a royal falcon; now you are a vulture. If you are anyone at all, this is worse than a hundred deaths. Whatever pleases your appetite, you indulge. How long will you keep filling your own grave with fire? The drink of truth tastes bitter to your heart, while falsehood goes down sweetly in your soul. No, you got it wrong; a mistake has slipped in. From where have these mistakes come falling upon you?