Quatrains

I am a servant of your face, you wine lover; your drowsy, intoxicating eyes have left my soul drunk. When the light of your face appears before me, all I can do at your doorstep is cry out with longing.

If I speak of my soul, it has long been your lover; if I speak of my heart, it is your poor, humble servant. Every creature in both worlds exists only through your grace; whether unbeliever or faithful, each one follows your faith.

As long as our home is on the street of love, the secret of eternity, before time and after, is ours to hold. As long as the thrill of your love runs through our clay, at the head of every list of names stands the name of the heart.

My heart is in love with your wild, dreamy Turkish eyes; you are the candle, and the whole world circles you like moths. My soul and heart are lovesick and crazy for you; you have become the home of my heart, and my heart is your home.

A lover who cannot walk through fire like the salamander is just a beast of burden; a Sufi who is not a free-spirited wanderer is worthless. A rogue who is not also pure at heart is no true man; an ascetic who has no beloved to witness is nothing but an owl in a ruin.

I said: I love you with a thousand hearts. She laughed with a teasing charm and said: what a lovely way to be. I said: my beauty, whose road leads to your embrace, and where does it begin? She answered: my friend, it runs from the beloved straight to the beloved.

Even though in these times there is no true confidant, and the foundation of friendship stands on shaky ground, in every state, we stay glad with her sorrow; since the sorrow is safe and well, there is no more grief.

For one moment my heart has no wish to be sober; with the sober-minded I have no wish for friendship. I carry a load a drunken elephant couldn't bear, and nothing can lift this load but God's own grace.

Every heart that gained true awareness from the start found the whole kingdom of the world, from the moon above to the fish below. Grasp it now, if only you will understand, for in time you will come to see this very point.

If my beloved takes on the ways of the drunk and plays a thousand tricks on those who love him, don't lose hope in him, for in the end he will make everything easy for you.

My heart, the sorrow of love makes you skilled in every art, and lifts you higher than anything you could imagine. In the ordeal of separation it lays you low; in the end, what will the grief of that beloved make of you?

My heart is bound to your dark, musky locks, and my weary soul belongs to your ruby lips, set with pearls. The souls of both worlds have become your humble servants; a hundred prayers rise, all dependent on your single 'amen'.

For a while the old sage of wisdom gave me this advice: Beware, never bind yourself to love. My wretched fate ignored wisdom's counsel, and separation crashed down on my head like Mount Alvand.

The day they raised this dome of blue glass, and set up this vault of nine high heavens, there was no veil of nothingness, no candle, no fire, no thread; it was the love of the beloved they tied upon us.

Those who are lost in longing for you are restless, frantic, and adrift. They stand amazed before your lovely face; they stay amazed until the day they die.

When he handed us the wine, in spite of every envious eye, we drank it down, whether it ran clear or thick with dregs. This wine was poured for us; who else would drink it? The custom of the tavern was set for us alone.

I came into the marketplace of being for your sake, and for your sake I go searching among the signs of all that exists. If you had never shown yourself, had never come into the open, every secret of existence would have stayed pointless and void.

King of the world, no harm ever comes from you; you are wise of heart, learned, and your fortune is wide awake. I have fallen weak and worn at your doorstep's dust; out of your kindness, lift me up from the ground.

Whatever quality the beloved reveals, whether in pure darkness or in unmixed light, the lover takes on that very same quality; subjects follow the faith of their kings.

The king's kindness rests once more on your spirit; you are God's beloved, a bird of soaring flight. What comparison could an elephant have with you? The kings of the world stand humbly at your threshold, laid out like pieces on the board of need.

You who walked on your own two feet into a place beyond words, and by your own hand fell into a ruin beyond words. Step out, just for a moment, from the copper of your own being, so you may find your way to an alchemy beyond words.

By his grace our beauty is beautiful; the whole world thirsts, and we are the clear water. We are people of perfection, and every breath we take brings a hundred kinds of greeting to those who seek it too.

You, the life of the world, life of the world, my Gilani sweetheart, my heart longs for your face every single day. The flood of Qasim's tears, pouring from the cloud of grief for you, ran on so long it swept all of Gilan away.

I beg of the eternal king a single sip of wine, one that fills me from head to toe. Let it make me so drunk that I find peace, free from the rule of being and the custom of nothingness.

Whether I'm an unbeliever or a believer, I follow your faith; whether good or bad, I'm your poor servant. If I'm sincere devotion, I'm the sermon that proclaims your majesty; and if I'm a prayer, I live only by the grace of your 'amen'.