A beauty that all night long teaches love-tricks to Venus and the moon, Whose two eyes by their witchery seal up the two eyes of heaven. Look to your hearts! I, whate'er betide, O Moslems, Am so mingled with him that no heart is mingled with me. I was born of his love at the first, I gave him my heart at the last; When the fruit springs from the bough, on that bough it hangs. The tip of his curl is saying, "Ho! betake you to rope-dancing." The cheek of his candle is saying, "Where is a moth that it may burn?" For the sake of dancing on that rope, O heart, make haste, become a hoop; Cast yourself on the flame, when his candle is lit. You will never more endure without the flame, when you have known the rapture of burning; If the water of life should come to you, it would not stir you from the flame.
Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies; The kernel is soft when the rind is scraped off. O brother, the place of darkness and cold Is the fountain of Life and the cup of ecstasy. So also is endurance of pain and sickness and disease. For from abasement proceeds exaltation. The spring seasons are hidden in the autumns, If spiritual manifestations had been sufficient, The creation of the world had been needless and vain. If spiritual thought were equivalent to love of God, Outward forms of temples and prayers would not exist
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