O our Friend, our Beloved, our Confidant,
the Light of our bizarre!
Look! Last year has fallen in love with our present time.
We are all wasteful.
To us, You are hundreds of treasures,
hundreds of our spent monies.
We are lazy.
You are hundreds of pilgrimages,
hundreds of businesses and occupations.
We fall asleep.
You are hundreds of states of awakeness.
We are the sick ones.
You are hundreds of salves for our wounds.
We are all ruined
Your kindness, Your favor is our architect.
Yesterday, I said to Love,
“O our crafty Sultan of Sultans,
don’t deny that You hid our hat.”
He answered me by saying,
“No. What We do comes from you,
because Our mountain echoes your voice to you.”
“Yes, that is true, I said, “We are the mountain. This is our voice.
But, O Friend who does what He wishes,
the same is not true for us.
We cannot do what we wish.”
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 1, Ghazal 19, verses 244-250. pages 47-48.