English
The Candle and the Moth Speak
One night I remember, my eyes would not close,
I heard the moth speaking to the candle.
It said: I am the lover, so if I burn, that is fair.
But you, why do you weep and burn as well?
The candle answered: My poor devoted friend,
the honey of my sweet beloved is gone.
As the sweetness drains out of me,
like Farhad, a fire climbs over my head.
It kept speaking, and moment by moment a flood of grief
ran streaming down its pale face.
It said: You who claim to love, this is not your work,
for you have neither patience nor the nerve to stay.
You flee at the sight of a single raw flame,
while I stand still until I burn away completely.
If the fire of love has singed only your wings,
look at me: I have burned from head to foot.
All night the candle went on with this talk,
while its companions gathered to watch it.
The night was not yet half spent
when a fairy-faced one suddenly snuffed it out.
As its smoke rose upward it kept saying:
This, my son, is the end of love.
If you want to learn how to love,
you will find release from burning only in dying.
Do not weep at the grave of one slain by the beloved;
go rejoice, for such a death wins the beloved's favor.
If you are a lover, do not wash your head clean of this sickness;
like Sadi, wash your hands clean of self-interest instead.
One who gives himself up never lets go of his aim,
even if arrows and stones rain down on his head.
I warned you: do not go into the sea.
But if you go, then surrender your body to the storm.