English
Number 5
Shake loose your musky hair, for I rejoice in this longing;
from its scent I catch the breeze of the highest paradise.
You are the beloved of my heart and soul; everyone seeks, and you are the sought.
What beauty, what grace, blessed be our Lord Most High.
Safety is the ascetic's dwelling, bliss the shelter of the sincere;
blame is the lover's way, and love the firm handhold to cling to.
The pious walk the path of restraint; the muftis speak their rulings;
the monks hold their stations of chastity, while among lovers there is uproar.
Why chase each precious gem? He is the ocean and you a mere stream.
Sing well, minstrel: had it not been for Him, we would not exist.
Be wise and walk the road, a traveler among travelers;
for higher than the highest is the station of nearness to Him, the utmost intimacy.
You are trapped in your stubborn reason, and cannot see
what joys, what fortunes fill the gathering of the free-spirited.
When the sun of His beauty lifts the veil from its face,
all explanations fold away, and the ultimate goal stands revealed.
Speak not of reason and sobriety to a Qasemi like me;
for the carefree drunkards possess eternal delight.