Truth This: a Lasting Home Hath Yielded Ne'er

Truth this: a lasting home hath yielded ne'er earth's spreading plain
Scarce e'en an inn where may the caravan for rest remain.

Though every leaf of every tree is verily a book,
For those who understanding lack doth earth no leaf contain.

E'en though the Loved One be from thee as far as East from West,
"Bagdad to lovers is not far," O heart, then strive and strain.

One moment opened were her ebriate, strife-causing eyne,
By us as scimitars, not merely daggers, were they ta'en.

Yearneth Nejâtî for the court of thy fair Paradise,
Though this a wish which he whilst here on earth can ne'er attain.