I have this burning desire to reach You, to meet You.
That desire is making me stubbornly insistent.
In order to reach Your fervor, I offer this unfaithful soul.
You cheer my heart with Your kind touch.
This is one of Your thousands of favors.
What can I do for You in return?
My power and strength are my gratitude and praising of You.
The most valuable salve for my eye is the dirt You have stepped upon.
If You didn’t will it, the ground wouldn’t become green.
If the sky didn’t hear Your call, it wouldn’t be able to turn.
The world of rose saplings is dressed in your garments of red and green.
Your days are the hope of night travelers.
If the faces of the people were not the mirror of Your face,
I would run away from them and hide in the mountains.
The one who believes that time is the one who keeps and destroys us
is the one who denies coming back to life after death.
He is certainly an unlucky one.
Yet, Your immortality gives him immortality.
How could this world, which looks like a barn,
a place full of stones and plants and animals,
come into existence from Nothingness
without the pull of Your ambergris?
Without Your call of “Ho, ho,”
how could the humdrum of life
be buried in the heart of the Earth?
Suddenly a favor comes. Who brings it?
O heart, that is also from the grace of your God.
One particle says to the other,
“How long are we going to fly in the air?”
Particles and the air are all in Your beautiful hands.
Weather changes in hundreds of forms from dawn to dusk.
It whirls and dances in every type of shape for you.
Even if you don’t see the moving air,
watch the trees or see the souls dancing around God.
Enough. Be silent.
Let everyone listen to their own words.
Not all characters can be in love with You.
Divan-i Kebir, Volume 21, Ghazal 79, verses 858-872, pages 174-176.