Ode XI

O Beloved, spiritual beauty is very fair and glorious,
But thine own beauty and loveliness is another thing.
O thou who art years describing spirit,
Show one quality that is equal to his essence.
Light waxes in the eye at the imagination of him,
But in presence of his union it is dimmed.
I stand open-mouthed in veneration of that beauty:
‘God is most great’ is on my heart’s lips every moment.
The heart hath gotten an eye constant in desire of thee.
Oh, how that desire feeds heart and eye!
Tis slave-caressing thy love has practised;
Else, where is the heart worthy of that love?
Every heart that has slept one night in thy air
Is like radiant clay: thereby the air is illumined.
Every one that is without object is as thy disciple:
His object is gained without the semblance of object.
Each reprobate who has burned in this love and fallen in it,
Fell into Kausar: for thy love is Kausar.
From hope of union my foot comes not to earth:
While I am severed from thee, my hand is on my head.
Be not sorrowful, O heart, at this oppression of enemies,
And think on this, that the Sweetheart is judge.
If the foe is rejoiced at my sallow face,
This sallow face of mine is from the red rose.
Since the beauty of my Beloved is beyond description,
How fat is my grief and how lean my praise!
Yea, for it is a rule as regards the poor sick wretch,
That while his pain is more his plaint is less.
Shamsi Din shone, moon-like, from Tabriz;
No, what is the very moon? for that is the moon’s face superlative.