شمع

O Candle! I am also an afflicted person in the world assembly; constant complaint is my lot in the manner of the rue.*

Love gave the warmth of internal pathos to you; it made me the florist selling blood-mixed tears.*

Whether you be the candle of a celebrating assembly or one at the grave; in every condition associated with the tears of sorrow you remain.

Your eye views all with equity like the Secret's (God’s) Lovers. My eye is the pride of the tumult of discrimination.

Your illumination is alike in the Ka‘bah and the temple; I am entangled in the temple and the Haram's discrimination.

Your black smoke contains the sigh's elegance. Is some heart hidden in the place of your manifestation?

You burn with pathos due to distance from Tajalli’s* Light. Your pathos the callous ones consider your light.

Though you are burning you are unaware of it all; you see but do not encompass the internal pathos.

I quiver like mercury with the excitement of vexation as well I am aware of vexations of the restless heart.

This was also the elegance of some Beloved, which gave me perception of my own pathos.

This cognition of mine keeps me restless*, innumerable fire temples are asleep in this spark.

Discrimination between high and low is created by this alone! Fragrance in flower, ecstasy in wine is created by this alone!

Garden, nightingale, flower, fragrance this Cognition is Root of the struggle of 'I and you' this Cognition is.

At creation's dawn as Beauty became the abode of Love; the sound of ‘Kun’* taught warmth to the spirit of Love.

The command came Beauty of Kun's garden to witness; with one eye a thousand dreadful dreams to witness.*

Do not ask me of the nature of the veil of being; the eve of separation was the dawn of my being.

Gone are the days when unaware of imprisonment I was that my abode the adornment of the tree of Toor was.

I am a prisoner but consider the cage to be a garden. This exile’s hovel of sorrow I consider the homeland.*

Memories of the homeland a needless melancholy became: Now the desire for sight, now longing for search became.

O Candle! Look at the excessive illusion of thought. Look at the end of the one worshipped by celestial denizens.*

Theme of separation I am, the exalted one I am. Design of the Will of the Universe’s Lord I am.

He desired my display as He designed me when at the head of Existence’ Diwan He wrote me.

The pearl likes living in a handful of dust; style may be dull the subject is excellent.

Not seeing it rightly is the fault of short-sighted perception; the universe is the show of effulgence of taste for Cognizance.*

This network of time and space is the scaling ladder of the Universe. It is the necklace of the neck of Eternal Beauty.

I have lost the way, Longing for the goal I am; O Candle! Captive of perception’s illusion I am.*

I am the hunter as well as the circle of tyranny’s net! I am the Haram’s roof as well as the bird on Haram’s roof.*

Am I the Beauty or head to foot the melting love am I? It is not clear whether the beloved or the Lover am I?

I am afraid the old secret may come up to my lips again: Lest story of suffering on the Cross may come up again.*