The Night of Union with the Beloved

The one who sets fire to people's hearts is my beloved, and the one burning in that fire's glow is my very soul. Since I went mad, the king's palace looks like a ruin to me, for the turquoise sky is just the arch above my own hall. I kept my love hidden, but alas, now the tale of my secret love is the gossip of every gathering. If the heavens want to lay people's homes in ruins, tell them not to bother: my weeping eyes already do that work. What passes in an instant is a night of union with the beloved; what has no end is my day of separation. Mohyi died, and everything dressed in black to mourn him; wherever a page lies scattered, it is a leaf from my book of verse.