041

Love went searching thro’ the earth Until Adam came to birth; Out of water, out of clay Manifested his display.

Sun, and moon, and stars on high, These were little to set by So to purchase in life’s mart Adam’s dust, that owned a heart.

042

Come! The Asiatic man Has created a new plan: Go not, pilgrimage to make To the idol that he brake.

What is this epiphany That men’s hearts, rejoiced to see, From the ashes of the way Gladly leap, like sparks at play?

To attain what far abode Strive the Turks upon the road, That their bosom fluttereth With the quickness of their breath?

Strive thou, selfhood’s joy to know: They who on this journey go Shatter every worldly chain That they may to self attain.

Men whose hearts are dead and cold As a cell this world behold; With two cups to fill their head, From the whole of life they fled.

I will ever be the slave Of those horsemen bold and brave Who, with spear uplifted, far Ride, to pierce and thread a star.

Angels lack the season now Prostrate to their Lord to bow; Creatures of pure light, for they Rapturous gaze on men of clay!

043

I boast a love that is not grieved By being or to be bereaved, Whose infidelity doth ne’er The girdle of existence wear.

If Love shall ever so command, Let precious life slip from thy hand; Love is thy one beloved and goal; There is no gain in life of soul.

The shattering of the idol shrine Doth infidelity refine; It needs Mahmud’s immortal ire To set the temple house afire.

In Muslim mosque and church of Christ, In incensed temple, tavern spiced, Although a hundred charms were tried The heart was never satisfied.

Never in bower sweet with scent I raised a sorrowful lament, But from the mountain cataract I learned this music to enact.

Wouldest thou approach me, here apart? Come cold of breath, and warm of heart; In thee is movement never calm; Such verve was not in David’s Psalm.

Seek less my faults, but take my bowl To be the measure of thy soul; The pleasure of my bitter brew Is never without spirit’s rue.

044

The Saki, pouring his pure wine Upon my restless heart Converts this quicksilver of mine To gold, by magic art.

I do not know if it be light Within my breast, or flame; I only know its radiance white Shines with a moonlike gleam.

Nature, all hushed, doth suddenly My quiet heart assail; The instrument in ecstasy Playeth its own sweet scale.

Grieve not, thou fool; the starry skies Within this desert waste Have many founts, that secret rise And to the torrent haste.

O thou who didst my sweet wine take, Grieve not at my sharp sting; It needs my sting, that I may wake Man from his slumbering.

045

Brighter shall shine men’s clay Than angels’ light, one day; Earth through our Destiny Turn to a starry sky.

The fancies in our head That upon storms were fed One day shall soar, and clear The whirlpool of the sphere.

Why askest thou of me? Consider Man, and see How, Mind developed still, Sublime this subject will.

Come fashioned forth, sublime. This common thought, in time, And with its beauty’s rapture Even God’s heart shall capture.