The Beloved Speaks to the Messenger

Suddenly her hair fell into disarray; she grew angry, and in that turmoil she said: Tell that sick man who has no cure; tell that madman who has no rest: Since you carry a mad longing in your head, madman, give up your longing for me and move on. This scheming is not your affair; mind your own head, or you will lose it. Where would you ever find light in union with me? When did a fairy ever befriend a demon? When did a beggar walk shoulder to shoulder with a king? When did a weed ever embrace a cypress? You are the moth, and I the heart-lighting candle; and when has a self-consuming moth ever reached its candle? If your heart is caught up in the affair of love, if within you the passion for love burns...