|This caravan is not bringing our baggage|
it has none of the fire of our Friend.
Though the trees have all turned green,
they have caught no scent of our spring.
Your spirit may be a rosegarden,
but its heart has not been wounded
by our thorn.
Your heart may be an ocean of realities,
but its boiling does not compare
with that of our shore.
Although the mountains are very steady
by God, they do not have our steadiness.
The spirit drunk with the morning wine
has not even caught
a scent of our winesickness.
Venus herself, the minstrel of heaven,
has not the capacity for our work.
Ask us about the lion of Love
every lion has not our backbone.
Show not Beloved’s coin to him
who has not our fineness!
Ghazal (Ode) 695
Translation by William C. Chittick
“The Sufi Path of Love”
SUNY Press, Albany, 198