This stone will be split open if it desires Union with You.
If my soul feels Your Joy, it will grow wings and fly to the sky.
Now, the fire melts and becomes water.
Reason loses its balance and falls.
Patience tears its dresses.
My mind loses itself.
Your dragon-like Love eats men and mountains.
Don’t stop the one on the go.
Don’t change smiles into tears.
Don’t torment Your slave.
Your slave doesn’t have anyone but You.
How could my words follow ordinary logic
as long as Your water flows in the river?
Sometimes, I am so ashamed that I can hardly breathe.
What is the food for Your Love?
My burnt lungs.
What is the value of my ruined heart?
It serves as a faithful counter to You.
This jar keeps fermenting,
This harp keeps playing and praising You.
Love came through my door
and put a hand on my head.
When He saw I was alone, He felt sorry for me.
I see that this house is inaccessible.
This place is terrible. This situation is bad.
My heart has gone.
I lay down in front of Your feet.
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 21, Ghazal 74, verses 814-822, pages 164-165.