Ode XVIII

Before thee the soul is hourly decaying and growing,
And for one soul’s sake how should any plead with thee?
Wherever thou settest foot a head springs up from the earth;
For one head’s sake why should any wash his hands of thee?
That day when the soul takes flight enraptured by thy fragrance,
The soul knows, the soul knows what fragrance is the Beloved’s.
As soon as thy fumes vanish out of the brain,
The head heaves a hundred sighs, every hair is lamenting.
I have emptied house, to be quit of the furniture;
I am waning, that thy love may increase and wax.
’Tis best to gamble the soul away for so great a gain.
Peace! for it is orth, O master, just that which it seeks.
My soul in pursuit of thy love, Shamsu ’l Haqq of Tabriz,
Is scudding without feet, ship-like, over the sea.