English
Number 5
What love was this the Beloved kneaded into our clay,
what treasure did the Friend lay hidden in our heart?
For forty mornings the eternal gardener worked by hand,
finding no rose-seed he did not plant in our soil.
What moon was this that came down from the sky
and settled, serene and at ease, in our house and constellation?
What angel was it that fell into the pit of Babylon?
What spells lie deep in this well of ours in Babylon!
What waves keep breaking, moment after moment,
from the surge and stirring of His sea onto our shore?
The heart takes on a thousand shapes in a single instant;
see how ready our receptive heart is to be imprinted.
With every knot He loosens from His own hair,
a hundred thousand of our troubles come undone.
If you long to be accepted at His court,
come and become the servant of the one who is our fortunate one.
Like Maghrebi, close your eyes to the images of this world
if you seek perfection from our Perfect One.