English
Number 12
My heart is glad that my beloved welcomed me;
with that welcome comes serenity, one peace after another.
The glass of my heart has been made clear by love's purity.
Oh, how gracious your welcome; I'd give my life and heart for it!
Ascetic, don't tell me the impossible: 'Repent of love.'
What can I do with love's ache? Where would I find a cure?
Blind imitation said 'repent'; true insight said 'love.'
And the tale of imitation was, of course, defeated.
Once it is certain that no one acts but God,
let the words 'you did not throw' teach 'when you threw.'
My soul has grown weary of stories told again and again.
Come, my soul, and reveal the wine of divine oneness.
My heart did not win the fortune of union with you for free;
it has borne so many burdens, again and again.
Speak no word outside the highway of the one who knows God as One.
This is the beginning, and this same thing is the end.
Since you have no real arrival, don't spin idle tales;
on the highway of love, recite the mystery of 'Has there come.'
Stop saying over and over that you wept blood from your eyes.
Be a child of the present moment and let the past go.
Qasim, do not speak of the soul-melting sorrow of separation.
Take shelter in the shade of loving, and leave the quarrel behind.